The Price
by cmar
Summary: Time Force:Highlander crossover: Immortality comes at a high price. Alex finds himself paying it once again as another Immortal tries to erase a tragedy of the distant past, at the risk of creating a new one. Complete.
1. Endings

Rated PG: some language, mild violence. 

Alex/Wes, Jen, Trip, Lucas, Katie and all other characters from Power Rangers belong to Disney/Saban. Methos and Duncan belong to Davis/Panzer Productions. I am using them without permission, however I have not and don't expect to make money from this.

My thanks to Rach aka The Fink for help with plotting and the finer points of Highlander the Series. Many thanks to MzDany for betaing and all-around encouragement.

This is a Power Rangers Time Force/Highlander crossover, written mostly for TF fans but I think HL fans would also find some points of interest in it. My story 'After the Fall' is a prequel to this, and establishes the necessary background. It would be helpful but is not absolutely necessary to read that first.

Reviews are always appreciated.

**The Price**

* * *

Endings

_Alex Drake's Journal, May 3, 3001 _

I saw Jen today. Funny, I'd almost succeeded in not thinking about her for a whole day, and there she was. As if she was trying to remind me of her existence, not that I need it. And not that she probably wastes her time on thinking about me. Or maybe she does, but not the version of me I'd like her to think about.

That sounds crazy, doesn't it? But this whole situation is crazy. Jen broke her engagement to me in the present because she fell in love with me in the past. She doesn't know, and I can't bring myself to tell her. How does a man compete with himself? A past self who didn't know how different he was, who didn't yet know he'd been cursed with immortality, and who wasn't weighed down with a thousand years of memories, of loss, and of loneliness?

- - -

There she was, amid a small group of people stepping out of a doorway and into the hallway he was walking through. A glimpse of a face, the flash of brown hair. She was smiling, listening to something one of them had said. For a moment he felt an overwhelming envy of those people, of whoever had received that smile or knew the laughter he heard a moment later was meant for them.

He considered turning around and going back the way he had come, but that would look like he was afraid. No, he had every right to be here in this corridor, and every right to keep going, to walk up to the group which was now standing in his way. He had every reason to stop and say hello to her. Brown eyes lifted to his face, and the smile died from hers.

"Jen," he said, nodding, keeping his voice neutral.

"Hello, Alex."

"Nice to see you again."

"Yes, you too. How are you?"

"Fine. You?"

"Fine."

He tried to think of something else they might talk about, anything to prolong the conversation, an excuse to walk down the hall with her and invite her to lunch... but what would that accomplish? There was no reason to stay. Alex nodded again and started off, continuing on his way, resisting the urge to turn and see if Jen was watching him. It made no difference, after all. Nothing could change the fact that she had fallen in love with another man and broken their engagement. The additional fact that the other man happened to be himself hardly mattered.

- - -

Jen watched him go out of the corner of her eye, wondering if he'd look back, half-hoping and half-dreading. But of course he didn't. Looking back was not something Alex did.

He certainly showed no signs of wanting to go back to their old relationship. Their encounters so far since her return had all been like this. Stiff, cold, without even the emotion of anger. He had changed so much from the kind and loving man whose ring she had once worn. She wanted to feel hurt, to believe she had never really known him, to dismiss him as shallow and convince herself he wasn't worth thinking about, but - there was always something in his eyes when he looked at her, something that told her he was feeling considerably more than he showed on the outside.

And what did _she_ feel? Jen sighed. She had lost both of the men she loved. Wes was gone, dead for almost a thousand years. She had even tried once to find out how and when it had happened, perhaps to make herself accept it, but a search of the history files had turned up nothing; Wes had disappeared from the historical record after Eric's tragic death at the hands of an apparently random attacker. If only she could have been there with him when he lost his friend and partner, so soon after losing his father. Instead, her absence had only been another cause of sorrow in his life.

And Alex... he could pretend all he wanted, but she knew she had hurt him. If only she had the courage to break through the wall he had built around himself, even if only as a friend. But maybe that would only make things worse. With another sigh, she turned her face away and her mind back to the day's business.

- - -

Patrick opened the door carefully, quietly, not wanting to disturb her if she was asleep. Inside the small but private hospital room, Dory lay in her bed, head turned slightly towards him, eyes closed, her hand draped over a book that rested, still open, on her chest. After a moment's hesitation he stepped closer, still making no noise.

Automatically his eyes watched for breathing, and found it. Her hands caught his attention next. So thin, so old, the skin almost translucent, looking as worn and fragile as her face. Cheekbones a little more prominent than the last time he had seen her. She was losing weight, losing strength. Losing life. For a moment he seemed to be in another small room full of the shadow of death, watching another fragile woman in her final struggles...

"Patrick?"

He was pulled back by her voice, and looked up to find her eyes open. He returned her bright smile. "Yes, it's me. Hope I didn't wake you up."

"Not at all." She considered him with a thoughtful glance. "I can't be napping while you're here, anyway. _I'm_ the one who's supposed to be watching _you_, not the other way around."

He laughed in response. "Right, that's why I'm here. So you can keep an eye on me."

"I'm glad to see you; I need to talk to you. Sit down." She reached out to him when he took a chair beside the bed with that hand that seemed so weak and wasted, her fingers resting on his wrist with a feather-light touch. "I heard you visited our headquarters. You told them you don't want another Watcher."

"Yes. I told them not to bother. I can watch myself. Done it before."

She ignored the attempt at humor. "You know that's not possible. They'll just assign someone anyway."

"And I'll spot them. And make sure they never see anything worth their trouble."

"Patrick... Why?"

He could have turned her aside with a quick joke, or a false reassurance. But in the face of those troubled eyes, so soon to be closed forever, he couldn't. "Dory... how can I have another Watcher after you?" he said simply.

She took a moment to answer, her eyes clouded by uncertainty. "How many Watchers have you had?" she asked finally.

"I don't know. But I managed to avoid all of you for quite some time, remember."

"Yes... You were very clever. Even becoming one of us."

"It _was_ clever, rather."

"But you know what we're doing is important. No one knows where Immortals come from. All of you simply appear, as foundlings. You seem perfectly normal, until you die. The first time. Then, you become what you are. Immortal, never ageing, able to survive any injury except beheading. Knowing by some strange instinct that you must inevitably destroy each other until the last Immortal is left with some unimaginable prize."

"I know all that."

"Do you? Don't you see that it's vital to humanity to find out why you're here? What the reason for your existence is? That's why the Watchers exist. It's our purpose. As the oldest Immortal we know of, you are especially important to that purpose."

Patrick sighed. "I know you're right. But... I don't _want_ another Watcher. I want _you_."

"You're very sweet. But you've known so many people, over the years. The centuries. I can't be that special."

"But you are." He looked into her eyes again, wondering... How had she become so important to him? Had it started the first time they met, when he was living in a different city and using a different name? Must be well over sixty years ago, he thought, looking down into her time-worn face and seeing it as it was then, youthful and pretty...

_He had noticed her right away, from the day she started work as an assistant in the research department of the company he was working for. At first glance she reminded him of another woman, long dead. But a second glance told him there was no real resemblance, just some intangible quality in her expression that brought another face to mind. He smiled at his own foolishness. _

But he noticed her again when she began to appear in other places where he often went. His favorite restaurant. A nearby theatre. He occasionally saw her car on the street in front of his building; once in a while spotted her in a crowd when he went walking or shopping.

He knew better than to think it was a personal interest, and yet, she intrigued him. So he decided to do something about it. A day out in the local park seemed like a good opportunity when he spotted her on one of the walking trails behind him. Nothing much she could do about it when he abruptly turned back and headed towards her.

"Dorianne Grayson, right? From research?" He put a pleasantly surprised look on his face.

"Yes." She quickly hid a flash of dismay. "Uh - Mr. Anderson, right?" she went on, using the name he was going by at the time.

"You recognize me. How flattering." He smiled. "And what a surprise to see you here, so far from home."

"How do you know where I live?" Her glance held just the right mix of suspicion, confusion, with a hint of flirtation. She was good.

"I'm not a bad researcher myself." He let just a little sarcasm creep into his voice. "And I couldn't help noticing the way you seem to keep showing up everywhere I go. If I was inclined to be vain, I might think you were stalking me."

She gave him an indignant look. "I most certainly am not."

"Don't be insulted."

"I just happen to like going to the same places you do."

"Of course you do."

"This isn't a big city, you know, and maybe we just have a lot in common."

"I suspect we have a great deal in common."

"Good. As long as that's straightened out, I have to-"

"You know, it's a shame the Watchers don't use visible tattoos for identification anymore. This would have been a dramatic moment for me to grab your arm and push up your sleeve, but... of course there would be nothing to see."

Somewhat to his surprise, she didn't bother to deny it. With a sidelong look and a crooked smile, she said, "They warned me about you. Said I couldn't expect to fool you for long."

"Now I really am flattered. Tell me more."

Dory was grinning. "Did I ever tell you how much you scared me back then?" she said.

"Scared you?"

"Yes. You were intimidating, to a very young Watcher on her first assignment. I used to wonder why they had picked me."

Had it been her resemblance to a woman he had once loved, long ago? No, the likeness was much too subtle, it depended too much on a certain similarity of manner and expression, something in the brightness of Dory's eyes and the gentleness of her smile. No one who hadn't known both women personally would have seen it. Whatever the reason was, she had been assigned to him and the combination had worked.

"I'm glad they picked you. And I'm glad we became... friends."

"So am I." Her hand reached out again, and he took it, feeling bones sharp under brittle, paper-thin skin. "We came awfully close to breaking the rules a few times, didn't we?"

"Ah, your precious rules. Yes, we came close. But we never did."

_He had been waiting for her to say it for the last hour, as they sat, silently except for a little small talk, in a secluded corner of one of their favorite restaurants. He wasn't sure what it was, but was quite sure he wasn't going to like it. _

"You know I've been seeing someone." Her voice was strained, her words sounded forced.

"Yes. Adrian Beck, from Accounting. For a few months now."

"I - We're going to get married."

"Well." He sat back, trying not to show his dismay. "I suppose I should congratulate you."

She sat, twisting her fingers together, staring down at them. "I hope you're not... that you didn't..."

"Didn't what? What makes you think I'd have any objection to your getting married?" But he couldn't quite keep the hurt and anger out of his voice.

"I wish things were different." Now her eyes were locked on his, their expression almost pleading. "But we both have to face reality. You're an Immortal. I'm a Watcher. I took an oath. I cannot interfere. Our friendship may have been tolerated, but anything more... it's out of the question."

"The rules have changed over the centuries; the Watchers have accepted that many of us know about you, and sometimes friendships develop. They could change again."

"Maybe. Maybe in your lifetime. But not in mine."

"People have broken rules before, and survived. God knows I have."

"There's other reasons." She hesitated, and then rushed on. "I'm a very selfish woman. I want children. I want a husband who will stay with me, and grow old with me. Not one who will disappear sooner or later, either because he has to move on or..."

"Or because he's lost his head."

Her lids finally dropped over the sparkle of tears. "I'm sorry, I truly am. For both of us."

"I'm sorry..." Her voice in the present echoed the regret of years ago.

"Maybe it was better this way. Sometimes friendship lasts longer than love." Patrick smiled. "Strange, isn't it? We still ended up staying together."

"While my marriage ended."

Patrick nodded. "Sorry I wasn't around while you were going through that."

"Yes. I've never quite forgiven you for taking off without a word. For fifteen years I had no idea where you were."

"I was quite proud of myself for giving you Watchers the slip. But I came back."

_She was smiling when he saw her, standing outside the door of the small office where he had been working as an antiquities expert for the last year. Just as he remembered her - it was only a second look that revealed a few subtle lines in her face, a few extra pounds; the inevitable marks of the passage of time. Inevitable for mortals. _

"What are you doing here?" he asked.

"I work here."

"For the company? Or as a Watcher?"

"Both."

"Who's your assignment?"

"You are."

"Really? And what does your husband think of you taking off to follow an Immortal around?"

"We're no longer married."

"Oh. I'm sorry," he said, trying to sound like he meant it.

"Thanks. When we picked up your trail again, I was reassigned. So I packed up the kids and here I am."

"Kids?" He took her arm. "Come on. I owe you lunch, at least. You can tell me all about it."

It had seemed only natural that she followed the next time he moved and changed identities. And the time after that. The last time, when he took his current identity of Patrick Wilford, he hadn't expected her to move again, not at her age, but he found himself unwilling to leave her behind. In the end, he had stayed here in Silver City and taken a job as a Time Force security guard.

"Over seventy years..." she was saying, almost to herself. "A lifetime. You've watched me grow old. And you're exactly the same."

"Not exactly. Even Immortals can change. It just doesn't show on the outside." He stopped at the sound of a soft knock, and then the softer sound of the door opening. They looked up to see three faces peering cautiously into the room: a woman in her forties and two boys in their early teens.

"Hi, Grandma," the woman said. "How are you feeling?"

"Better today, Ivy. Hello, boys. Would you give us just another minute, please?"

"Sure. Nice to see you, Patrick." Ivy smiled at them and withdrew.

Patrick stood up. "I'd better be going anyway."

"Are you all right?"

"Of course. Nothing hurts me, remember? You're the one..." He swallowed, unexpected grief welling up in his throat. "Dory... if I could give away my immortality..."

"No, don't even think it." Her fingers pressed his again with surprising strength. "I've had a long life. A good one, a worthwhile one. I have no complaints. Besides..." She nodded at the door. "I have my own kind of immortality. Part of me will live on, in them."

- - -

He felt it, even before he heard a knock; that odd sensation in his nerves that meant it was an Immortal at his door. Alex felt his stomach tighten in reaction, and then relax again when he saw Patrick's face in the viewer, as much as he could ever relax around another of his own kind.

"Wasn't expecting you," he said as the door swung open.

"Is it a bad time?"

"No. Come on in."

"Thanks."

"Anything the matter?" Alex asked as they walked into his living room.

"No." Instead of sitting, Patrick stopped at the large windows overlooking the main part of the city. "I was in the neighborhood, visiting a friend in the hospital."

"Nothing serious, I hope."

"You know mortals. Always getting sick. Getting hurt. Dying." The tone was casual, but the tense set of Patrick's shoulders contradicted it. "You'd think at my age I'd be used to it."

"Mine too. But you never get used to it."

"Not when it's someone you..." Patrick's voice lowered as his words trailed off. "I've seen thousands of people die. Been responsible for more of those deaths than I care to think about. And yet, I still feel all the things mortals feel about death. Anger, regret, denial. I'm so _sick_ of seeing people, good people, die, while I go on."

"I'm sorry." Alex paused awkwardly. He had felt the same thing so many times over the thousand years that he had been immortal that he knew exactly what Patrick must be going through, and he knew that words would be of no help.

"That's just the price of immortality, right?"

"One of the prices. Can't the doctors do anything?"

"They've tried. All they can do is make her comfortable, and delay the inevitable."

"What about tissue regeneration?"

"The device you took to 2001 and used to save your father? It wasn't enough. She's almost a hundred years old. At her age, apparently nothing's enough."

"Unfortunately, mortals die. There's no cure for old age, at least not yet."

"I know." Patrick hunched his shoulders. "Mortals die, and I can accept that... but the real tragedy is when they die before their time, before they've had a chance to complete their lives. The way your father would have died, if you hadn't stepped in."

"Yes, Dad lived another thirty years after that. I'm glad I could give him that time."

Patrick's voice was distant. "Thirty years... She could have done so much if she had been given another thirty years. She was so young..."

"I thought you said your friend was older."

"Someone else, someone I knew a long time ago, before you became immortal."

Alex looked up with real interest. Patrick had never said much about his life, not even how old he was. "Who? Tell me about her."

"Not much to say. We had very little time together. She was already sick when I met her. I loved her. Until she died." Suddenly Patrick seemed to refocus, looked at him, and smiled. "But I didn't come here to complain about my problems. How have you been?"

Alex shrugged. "The same."

"And that girl of yours? Jen?" he asked with his usual directness.

"She's the same too."

"Then you haven't told her. Have you at least talked to her? Tried to get back together with her?"

"No." Alex avoided his eyes. "I'm not sure anymore if it's the right thing to do."

Patrick finally came away from the window and sank into a chair, leaning forward, elbows on knees. "What's wrong with you?" he inquired.

"What do you mean?"

"After the delightful heart-to-heart we had after your latest death, I know you love Jen. You need her. You've loved her almost all your life, which is saying a lot for an Immortal. Now, after losing her as Wes Collins and waiting a thousand years to get her back, you're just going to give up?"

"Even if she could accept what I am, it wouldn't be fair to her. I realize that now. I can't have children with her. I'd stay the same as she gets older. Eventually I'd have to leave. She deserves better than that."

For some reason his words seemed to make Patrick almost - angry. His face hardened; he sat up tensely straight. "There are mortal women - and men - who are willing to make those sacrifices. Don't you think Jen deserves the truth? Don't you think she should have the chance to decide for herself? She may be mortal, but she's not a child."

"If she finds out Wes and I are the same person, and I didn't tell her..."

"Oh, so that's the real reason!" Patrick broke into a bark of laughter. "You're afraid! Afraid she'll get angry, or maybe afraid to compete with yourself." He leaned forward again, eyes intent. "You're a fool, Alex, Wes, whatever you call yourself; you're a fool. Real love is rare, especially for us. You should be moving Heaven and Earth to keep Jen; you should be holding on to her with both hands, instead of letting her slip away. You have something very few of us get: a second chance. If I had that kind of opportunity..."

"I just..." Alex shook his head. "I want what's right for Jen. If she doesn't love me anymore, I won't push her."

"Right, she loves Wes, not you. Oh, but wait, you _are_ Wes."

"Not anymore," Alex said stubbornly.

"I can see you're a lost cause." Patrick softened it with a smile. "However, I am not. When a second chance offers itself, I intend to take it."

"What do you mean?"

"Nothing at all." Patrick climbed to his feet. "It's late, and I should be going. Thanks for listening to my tale of woe."

"Anytime."

With the door locked behind his Immortal friend, Alex returned to the living room. He had been watching television before the interruption... but it had lost its appeal. Had Patrick been right about him? Was he losing his chance at happiness out of fear? Did he owe Jen the truth at least? And why did he have the feeling that there had been something else said tonight, something he had missed?

- - -

  
TBC... 


	2. Things of the Past

Rated PG: some language, mild violence. 

Alex/Wes, Jen, Trip, Lucas, Katie and all other characters from Power Rangers belong to Disney/Saban. Methos and Duncan belong to Davis/Panzer Productions. I am using them without permission, however I have not and don't expect to make money from this.

Reviews are always appreciated.

**The Price**

* * *

Things of the Past

- - -

_Alex Drake's Journal, May 7, 3001_

_When you've lived as long as Patrick has - or as long as I have - there are so many things you wish you could change in your own past. Certainly I've thought about it, and been tempted every time I remember how Eric died. Maybe I should have suspected what was about to happen, but I was too wrapped up in my own problems. So now it's the five of us, together again. A team again. Talk about the past coming back to haunt you... But it's not going to be anything like it was before._

- - -

Jen walked into the Time Force lunchroom, her eyes scanning for a familiar face, and quickly finding it. Katie was almost at the other side of the large room, smiling brightly despite the early hour, an arm raised to wave until she saw Jen nod in recognition. It took only a few moments to thread her way through the pack of tables.

"Hey! You made it!" Katie greeted her.

"Am I late?"

"No, right on time as usual." Her former teammate waited for her to sit down before asking, "When's your meeting?"

"At eight-thirty. At least it'll be over early and I'll have a chance to get some real work done before lunch." She scanned the options on the automated order console built into the tabletop, fingers moving to select eggs, toast, fruit, and coffee, the kind of breakfast she'd gotten used to in 2001. "I seem to spend so much time in meetings these days. Waste of time, most of them."

"Yeah, I can see why Wes hated..." Katie trailed off into uncomfortable silence.

"You can say his name, it's okay," Jen said with a wry smile.

"That's a relief." Katie fixed her with a penetrating glance for a moment before breaking into another smile. "Guess what, I bumped into Lucas the other day. He said to say hello."

"How's he doing?"

"Great. Says he loves his new job."

"He should. It's perfect for him."

Life had changed since all of them had returned from their successful mission to capture Ransik in 2001. The first few weeks had been a dizzy, bittersweet mixture of debriefing, readjustment, getting reacquainted with family and friends, with the added complication of realizing they were famous now. But the excitement had died down, and they had settled into normality again, all of them picking up their lives where they had left off. Except Jen, of course. There was no repairing the break between her and Alex.

Reassignments had followed. Lucas was now working on the development and testing of transport vehicles, Katie had gone back to her position as a patrol officer, now at a higher rank, Trip had increasingly concentrated on temporal research. Jen, with the new title of Lieutenant Commander, had found herself spending more time in the office and less in the field, sometimes to her dismay.

"You miss it, don't you?"

As Katie's voice interrupted her thoughts, Jen realized she had been absently running her fingers over the morpher on her wrist. She smiled, a little sadly, wondering exactly which 'it' Katie was asking about. "You mean morphing on a regular basis? We should be grateful Command let us keep the morphers at all."

"Well..." Katie looked down, toying with her napkin. "Actually I meant us. The team. That's what _I_ miss."

They had been so close, during their year in 2001. Not only teammates but friends, living and working together, sharing everything. Despite the danger they had been in, despite homesickness and the struggle to survive, it had been in some ways a very happy time. Of course, Wes had been part of that.

"Seems like we hardly see each other anymore," Katie was saying. "We still have the morphers, but we don't work together anymore. It's really a shame. We were like family."

"Even family drifts apart. Doesn't mean anything's changed between us."

"I guess."

"I saw Alex the other day." Jen saw Katie's eyes flicker up to hers.

"You did? How is he?"

"Seemed fine. Said he was fine. Then he took off. You know Alex."

"I'm not so sure. He's changed."

"You don't need to tell _me_ that." Jen smiled, trying to make the remark sound lighthearted.

"Jen..." Katie seemed to consider her words. "Have you talked to him? Tried to find out what's going on?"

"A couple of times... I don't know, he won't admit anything's wrong, but I can tell there's something he's not telling me." Jen shrugged, again trying to sound casual. "He doesn't seem to be interested in talking. Or in getting back together."

With a look of surprise Katie asked, "Do you _want_ to get back with him?"

Jen sighed. "I don't know. Sometimes... I do still care for him. If he hadn't acted the way he did..." She frowned. "If only he had told me he was still alive. If he'd talked to me when he was in 2001, instead of just taking over and ordering all of us around. If he hadn't been so... different and cold."

"You would have stayed engaged to him?"

"Well... Maybe I wouldn't have - had the feelings I did for Wes. It wasn't just him that broke us apart, it was Alex himself too."

"He was badly injured, Jen. He almost died. And then he must have been under a lot of pressure. And..." Katie hesitated. "Maybe he suspected something was happening between you and Wes."

"Nothing was really going on, not until later. But maybe you're right." Jen stared down at her plate unseeingly. "You want to know something really strange? I think I loved both of them. Never used to think you could be in love with two people at the same time, but somehow, it happened. But - I can't be with Wes, and Alex doesn't seem like the same person anymore, so I end up with no one."

Katie's fingers touched her wrist. "There'll be someone else. Girl like you, you'll have them lining up around the block."

"Yeah, I can't wait to see that." Jen smiled wryly.

"That guy, for example." Katie nodded towards the far side of the lunchroom. "He's been staring at you since you walked in."

Jen turned her head, trying not to be obvious, and caught a glimpse of a man perhaps a few years older than herself, sitting alone, just as he averted his eyes. "Him? Not bad... But he's probably looking at _you_," she said, turning back to Katie with a grin.

- - -

He had meant it when he said Alex was a fool. There she was, sitting across the room from him, talking to one of her former teammates. Jennifer Scotts. She was here, she was alive, and Alex did nothing about it. Time was so short for mortals, and he was wasting it.

Alex. Patrick smiled to himself. The name had been one of the reasons he had sought out the red Ranger after his 'death' at Ransik's hands. Alex. _Alexa._ Coincidence, of course; he wasn't such a fool as to believe there was anything mystical about it. And yet, the thought, the connection, had been at the back of his mind, only waiting for an opportunity to emerge and make him see that time had brought him the kind of second chance that Alex himself was passing by.

That's what it all came down to. Time. Maybe it could be his friend, instead of his enemy, if he could make this work.

- - -

"Hey, Trip, could you look at this for me?"

"Sure." Trip got up from his seat in the timestream pattern analysis lab and crossed the room to bend over the shoulder of an older man in a white lab coat. He peered at the complex web of intersecting, multicolored lines spread across the chronospectral analysis screen like an impossibly intricate section of lace, and frowned. "What is it?"

"I was hoping you could tell _me_."

"Probably nothing." Trip took a closer look. This visual representation of the billions of interlacing events that made up the timestream never failed to awe and fascinate him, especially as he had become more skilled at interpreting it. Now, despite his youth, more experienced scientists had begun to defer to his opinion. "Kind of looks the way it does before a time flight..." he said thoughtfully.

"Where do you see that?"

"The range of colors has increased to show more divergent possibilities, and the - the texture is looser. But it's very subtle. Like I said, probably nothing." Trip shrugged. It was more a feeling than anything solid he could point to. Reading the currents of the timestream was still more an art than a science. He was probably good at it because of his Xybrian semi-psychic abilities.

"I always thought that was weird," the other man said. "The way we see effects before the cause actually happens."

"Yeah, well - when you think about it, as soon as someone makes the decision to travel back in time something's happened. The timestream reacts to the possibility that history _may_ change, even before anyone actually does anything to change it."

"I haven't heard of any time flights coming up."

"Me either." Trip stared at the screen for another thoughtful moment. "It's probably just a random effect, but - maybe I'll take a walk to the shipyards. There's someone I can ask."

Head down, lost in thoughts of the beautiful and puzzling tapestry of time he had just been trying to understand, Trip stepped out of the room, saw a shadow, and barely managed to avoid running into its owner. "Excuse me!" he exclaimed, backing off a step. The man, a Time Force security guard, only nodded and passed him, also headed for the exit leading out to the shipyards. Trip noticed a small box in his hand, then forgot about it almost instantly as he started on his way again.

- - -

As he left the building, Patrick tried to hold the box so it was hidden from the view of the people on the walkways and lawn. Probably not even necessary; the guard's uniform he wore was an effective camouflage. No one noticed guards unless they were in trouble, or intended to cause it. He was as invisible as a waiter or cleaning person, as long as he looked like he belonged here.

Sure enough, no one looked twice as he approached the small timeship, parked in a far corner, that he had already chosen for his purpose. He circled behind it. As he looked back in the direction of the main field a flash of green caught his eye. Another one of the team of Rangers, the same young man who had almost bumped into him minutes ago. Had he noticed something suspicious; was he following? But no, he was waving at a taller, dark-haired man.

No one was looking. Using his passkey, Patrick opened the ship's door and slipped inside. He stood for a moment, letting his eyes adjust to the lighting, dim after bright sunshine.

Now or never... One more time, he wondered if he was doing the right thing - but there was no real question. Alexa's face beckoned him on as he sat at the controls and brought the engine to life.

- - -

"Time flights? None coming up that I know of. Why?"

Trip squinted in the sun, glancing past Lucas across the landing field to where the guard he had encountered in the hallway had disappeared, unable to shake the uneasy feeling that had been growing inside him. "The timestream pattern looks just like it does before a test flight," he said. "Are you sure?"

"I think I'd know. I'm usually the pilot." Lucas crossed his arms with a faint smirk. "Are _you_ sure you're not imagining things?"

"If there's nothing going on, why's that ship taking off?"

Lucas turned to follow his pointing finger, the smile fading. "I didn't know anyone was going to be using that one - probably just testing the engines."

"I don't think so..." They both stared up as it lifted into the sky, gaining speed. "Look at that!" Trip exclaimed.

A bright, narrow stream of light had stabbed up into the sky from the small ship. It blossomed into a dark purple and black blotch and began to rotate, in only a second or two becoming a whirlpool draining into nothingness high above their heads. The ship caught the sunlight in a gleam of silver as it darted up and into the center of the funnel.

"Shit!" Lucas shouted as it vanished.

Trip might have cursed too, but he only watched in silence and with a sinking heart as the timehole shrank into itself and pinched out of existence, leaving only a blue, sunny, and empty sky.

- - -

"We know who it was. A security guard. Patrick Wilford."

Alex tried not to show the effect that name had on him as Captain Logan's eyes studied his face across the desk in Logan's office. "Are you sure?" he asked.

"Trip says he saw a guard matching his description near the ship before it took off. And Wilford is missing. Along with one of the experimental regenerators from the medical lab."

"A regenerator. I see," Alex muttered.

"You know him, don't you?"

Repressing the urge to ask how Logan knew, Alex answered honestly. "Yes. We've been friends since he found me alive in the morgue after Ransik... injured me."

"Any idea why he did this? Why would he want to travel back in time?"

"I really don't know." Alex frowned, trying to remember exactly what Patrick had said that night several days ago. Something about getting a second chance. And something about a woman he had known long ago, who had died young. "I suppose - there's something he wants to change in the past. Someone he wants to save, maybe. But I have no idea when, or where. Can't the instruments pinpoint it?"

"Yes, they have. Early 1996. Ring any bells?"

_'Someone I knew a long time ago, before you became immortal...'_ Patrick's words were suddenly clear in Alex's mind. He frowned, and came to the inevitable decision. "I'm going after him."

Another sharp look from Logan. "You're the best person to go, I agree. And you should take the other Rangers; you may need backup. Do you have any idea where to look?"

"No, I don't," Alex answered, realizing Patrick could have gone literally anywhere in the world. They might know the time, but without the place it could still be hopeless.

Logan hesitated, looking more uncomfortable than Alex could remember ever seeing him. "I could give you some suggestions, but..." His mouth firmed. "This is an emergency situation. After what Ransik did in 2001, we can't risk any more interference that might alter events in that time period. The timestream can't handle it. Whatever Wilford intends to do, no matter how small a change he might make, it could have a disastrous effect on history."

"I know; you don't have to tell me how important-"

"It's against all the rules, but I don't see any choice."

"What do you mean? What rules?"

Logan ignored the question. "There's someone who may be able to help. Someone who's known Wilford for a very long time. I'll contact him, and ask him to talk to you before you go."

"Who? How do you know so much about Patrick?"

"I don't know how much he told you..."

"Told me about _what_? Logan, what's going on?"

"Alex, there are things... It was inevitable you'd find out eventually, but it would take too long to explain now. I have to make some calls if I'm going to find this person, and you should contact the others and get ready."

Alex took a step closer to the desk. "If there's something you're not telling me that I need to know for this mission..."

Logan paused with his hand on the communicator, his expression apologetic but very determined. "Please, Alex, trust me. Getting that information for you is what I'm trying to do. Don't ask me to tell you everything now. I can't, for several reasons."

"All right. Okay, but I expect some explanations later." Alex turned and started out.

Behind him, he heard Logan mutter, very softly, as if to himself, "I just hope I'm doing the right thing."

- - -

_"Trip. You already know what the situation is." _

"Yeah, Alex, I know. Who's going after him?"

"Logan wants the whole team. The five of us."

"Oh. Okay. Uh... when?"

"As soon as we can all be ready. An hour or two, probably."

- - -

"Alex... Do I have time to call my parents and brothers?"

"Of course, Katie. Just try to make it fast."

"Funny. Just this morning, I was thinking about wanting to get back into action..."

"Looks like you'll get your wish."

- - -

"Another time mission?"

"Yes, Lucas. To 1996. We're the logical choice; we're not only Rangers but we've all been in that approximate time period."

"But you were only there for a couple of days."

"I'm - familiar enough with it."

"And you're leading the mission?"

"Is there a problem with that?"

"No. No problem for me. I'll be there."

- - -

"Jen, are you okay with this?"

"Of course I'm okay. Why wouldn't I be?"

"You might have feelings about being in that time again - and about working with me."

"Alex, I'm a Time Force officer, just like you. Do you seriously think I'd be that unprofessional?"

"I didn't mean it like that."

"How did you mean it? No, never mind. I'll see you in an hour."

- - -

They hadn't even left, and he felt tired and disheartened. Alex walked through the hallway of his apartment building, his mind still on those calls to each of his teammates. Team. They had all worked so well together once, long ago, but somehow when he had gone back to 2001 as Alex everything had been completely different. _He_ had been different. A thousand years of experience and bitter memories now separated him from mortal humanity. Or maybe not. From the moment he had seen Jen again, with Wes - with _himself_, although a self so distant and different he found it impossible not to think of him as a separate person - he had been consumed by jealousy, anger, confusion; the same emotions every mortal was prey to. He had behaved as badly as any lovesick, rejected teenager. And the others had reacted in kind, with angry words, accusations, rejection of his leadership.

They had resented him, been angry with him for taking back his own morpher and his rightful role as leader. How was this going to be any different? What was it he had lost over the centuries that had made the team work before, as it would not work now? Even more important, was there any way to recapture it, to get back that old trust and comradeship? They would need every bit of it on this mission.

And that led to another troubling thought. How could Patrick have done this? They were friends; in fact Patrick was the one who had pursued the friendship. Had it all been a buildup to this moment? No, there seemed to be no connection. Still, it felt like a betrayal, his friend going against everything Alex now stood for...

He didn't fully realize what he was feeling until he had already come to a stop, heart starting to race as a familiar tingling sensation buzzed through his head. An Immortal, here. Very close. Not Patrick. No time to deal with a challenge now. Feeling momentary gratitude that he was in uniform and armed, Alex pulled out his blaster as he saw movement ahead and a man stepped from around the corner leading to his door.

He was a little taller than Alex, strongly built, very handsome, with dark hair longer than was the current fashion. The long coat he was wearing was an unpleasant reminder of so many other Immortals who kept swords hidden under them, despite the fact that most now used energy or subspace-based weapons.

"Hey!" The man stopped abruptly as Alex aimed the blaster. "Take it easy, I'm not here to fight."

"Then who are you? Why are you waiting for me outside my apartment?"

"Didn't think you'd appreciate it if I broke in and waited inside..." The man smiled, then dropped the attempt at humor as Alex only glared. "Look, I was asked to come here."

"By who?"

"Guy named Logan. Your Watcher."

Alex lowered the weapon slightly. "My what?"

"Your - Captain Logan, of Time Force. He told me you have a problem with a stolen timeship. I know the person who took it and I think I can help."

"Yes. Yes, Logan said he was going to call one of Patrick's friends." Alex holstered his blaster and, after a moment of hesitation, held out a cautious hand. "I'm Alex Drake."

"I know." The man's grip was firm, and he smiled again. "I'm Duncan MacLeod."

- - -

  
TBC... 


	3. Revelations

Rated PG: some language, mild violence. 

Alex/Wes, Jen, Trip, Lucas, Katie and all other characters from Power Rangers belong to Disney/Saban. Methos and Duncan belong to Davis/Panzer Productions. I am using them without permission, however I have not and don't expect to make money from this.

Reviews are always appreciated. 

**The Price**

* * *

Revelations

- - -

_Alex Drake's Journal, May 7, 3001_

_Another Immortal who hasn't tried to chop my head off. I'm almost starting to believe we may not all be as bad as I thought. Actually, I'm starting to wonder if I know anything at all about my fellow Immortals. Or some mortals too, for that matter. And Patrick... I've learned more about him tonight than in the last year. Starting with his real name._

- - -

Duncan MacLeod of the clan MacLeod. That was how he would have introduced himself once, but clan ties that had meant something fourteen hundred years ago in the highlands of Scotland would earn only blank looks in the world of 3001. Duncan followed Alex Drake into a comfortable apartment; not big and not small, nicely furnished by a man who had had plenty of time to learn his own tastes, and had accumulated the money to indulge them. 

"Want anything?" Alex was facing him, his face still not entirely trusting. Not too surprising for someone whose previous encounters with other Immortals had apparently consisted mostly of challenges, followed by a battle to the death. 

"No, thank you." 

"Then have a seat, and tell me what you know about Patrick Wilford." 

"What I know about Patrick..." Duncan settled himself on the sofa and smiled as Alex sank into an armchair. "First of all, that's not the name I know him by. His real name is Methos." 

"Methos." Alex's lids dropped a little. He had obviously never heard the name before, and probably was wondering why Methos hadn't trusted him with it. "First name? Last name?" 

"Only name, as far as I know. When he was born, I suppose most people only had one name." 

"When he was born? How old is he?" 

"Six thousand years, give or take a century or two. He isn't sure himself." 

"Six _thousand_..." Alex couldn't hide the surprise on his face this time. 

"He's the oldest living Immortal that anyone knows of. By a good margin." 

"And - and how long have you known him?" 

"A little over a thousand years. On and off." 

"How old are_ you_?" 

"Fourteen hundred." 

"Never thought I'd ever feel young again, but compared to you two..." Alex shook his head, a glimmer of humor showing as his stern exterior cracked for a moment. "Did you know him in 1996, the time he's gone back to?" 

"Yes I did. And assuming he wants to change something in his past, I think I know what it is." 

"Good." Alex leaned forward, raising his brows expectantly. 

"But there's a couple of conditions." 

"Like what?" The voice was soft, but the face watching him had gone cold. 

"Well - Methos is my friend. I don't want him hurt." 

"We don't intend to hurt him if we can help it. What else?" 

"I'm going with you." 

"No." Still soft, but very firm. "You're a civilian. Untrained." 

"I've been in the military. Several militaries, as a matter of fact. I might be a better soldier than you are." 

"My team and I are Rangers. You'd slow us down." 

This time Duncan grinned. "I've had fourteen hundred years of experience in protecting myself from other Immortals. I'm an expert martial artist and swordsman. Don't worry about me. Besides, we're talking about Methos here. He wouldn't hurt me." 

"Wouldn't he?" Alex was leaning back, arms crossed, his face grim. "He's apparently willing to risk changing history, to get whatever it is he wants in the past. How many people might die because of that? How do we know how far he'd go to keep us from stopping him?" He paused. "And I'm sure he didn't survive for six thousand years without fighting. And killing." 

"True," Duncan admitted reluctantly. More true than Alex could guess, but that was the old Methos, the one that had been gone for thousands of years. "But if I can talk to him... Maybe he doesn't realize how serious this is; how much damage he could do." 

"What makes you think he cares?" 

"What makes you think he doesn't? From what he told me, he's been a friend to you. Helped you out when you needed it. Is this what you think of him?" 

"I don't know what to think of him. Apparently I don't know him as well as I thought I did. For example, he never mentioned _you_." 

"Methos is..." Duncan tried to find the right words. "You're right, he hasn't survived this long by putting other people first. That includes... a tendency not to trust anyone right away. Remember, you've only known him for a little over a year. To him - to us - that's _nothing_. He's learned to tell people only what he thinks they need to know, including me. Don't hold it against him, that's just the way he is." 

"I get the feeling there's a lot he didn't tell me." Alex waved a hand when Duncan started to answer. "Never mind. Tell me where you think he's gone, and what you think he intends to do." 

"Am I coming along?" 

"I'll consider it." 

Duncan sighed inwardly. "All right." He stared down into his hands for a moment, trying to collect his thoughts. Where to start? He hadn't seen most of what he was about to tell, had heard about it second-hand, and seen what it had done to Methos. Talk about _her_ first. That seemed right. 

"Her name was Alexa Bond. A lot like your name, come to think of it. I met her when she was a waitress in a place where I used to hang out, owned by - by a friend. That's how Methos met her too. From what he said it was love at first sight, or maybe things just moved faster because they had so little time." 

"So little time. Why?" 

"She had inoperable cancer. Her doctors had told her she had less than a year to live. In fact, she didn't want to go out with him at first; she was trying to protect him and maybe herself, trying not to get involved." 

"I see. But they did get involved." 

"For an Immortal, death is nothing new. Sooner or later, all mortals die. Methos wanted to make the remainder of her life as happy and as exciting as possible, so he took her to all the places he thought she should see before she died, first in America, then Europe. I don't think he realized how deeply he would fall in love with her, or how much her death would hurt him. Afterwards, he seemed to have accepted it. He seemed like the old Methos again, maybe a little quieter, but... recovered, or at least resigned." 

"But you think he's gone back in time to save her, using the regenerator he took." Alex frowned. "Do you think that's why he joined Time Force? To be in the position to steal a timeship and do this?" 

Duncan shook his head, although the possibility had occurred to him too. "Not likely. He can be devious, but I doubt he's been planning this for years." 

"Then why now? He's had opportunities before, why do it now?" 

"That's another reason I think saving Alexa is what he wants to do. His - a close mortal friend of his died only a couple of days ago. A woman. I think he always was attracted to her, although it never came to much. The times I met her, she reminded me of Alexa a little." 

"I see. So he'll have gone to wherever Alexa is in 1996, to use a regenerator to save her life." Alex's eyes were bleak. "He got the idea from me; I told him how I saved my father in 2001. Maybe he doesn't realize that I was correcting the damage Ransik had caused, setting things back the way they were supposed to be." 

"What time exactly did the timeship go to?" Duncan asked. 

"Mid-March." 

Duncan nodded. "That makes sense. He wouldn't want to take the chance of running into his former self, and he came to Paris at that time in a last attempt to find something to save her. She was in Sacré Coeur hospital, in Geneva." 

"Then that's where he'll be." Alex's cool blue eyes remained fixed on his. He wasn't done yet, and after a moment the question Duncan had been hoping wouldn't come - came. 

"You called Captain Logan my Watcher. What does that mean?" 

"It's not important right now, and I'm not the proper person to tell-" 

"I'll decide what's important. And you're not the only one with conditions. Tell me the truth if you really want to come on this mission." 

- - -

"Meet us at the ship, he said. As soon as possible. So where is he?" Jen's voice was right on the edge between concern and annoyance. 

"Yeah, he's had plenty of time to get whatever he needs," Lucas grumbled. 

"I'm sure Alex has a good reason," Katie said. 

"To be late?" Jen asked. "He's _never_ late." 

Trip looked up from the instrument console of the timeship they had prepped for the trip. Against his own better judgment, he spoke up. "Katie's right. Alex must be getting more information. Or maybe something's happened." 

"Yeah, what's happened is he doesn't think our time is worth worrying about," Lucas muttered. 

Trip sighed but said nothing. They were all worried and tense, and Alex, by delaying them, had made himself a good target for that anxiety. Not a good sign for the success of their mission. A team depended on its leader. Lucas didn't like Alex. Katie would never say so, but she felt the same way. Trip himself... he had faith in Alex, who had once been able to pull them together so well, but even he had been shocked by the cold, insensitive Alex who had joined them in 2001. Jen... he didn't even want to think about what she must be feeling. 

- - -

"So the Watchers have been around for thousands of years?" Alex stared at Duncan, trying not to let his face show the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. So much he had never known, or seen. So much Patrick - Methos - hadn't seen fit to tell him, not even his real name. And Logan, how could he have kept all this hidden for so many years of working together? So many years of spying on him, keeping records of everything he did, watching him behind his back. And Logan hadn't even been the first... 

"They say they've been here as long as we Immortals have." Duncan smiled. "I suspect that's an exaggeration. But yes, thousands of years. They must have been started by someone - a mortal - who found out about us, and decided it was important to humanity to try to learn where we came from, and why we're here." 

"What have they found out?" 

"Not much, as far as I know. We ourselves don't know the answers to those questions. We're also not supposed to know the Watchers exist. I found out pretty much by accident, and only told a few other Immortals I trust. And of course Methos knows. For a while he was a Watcher himself, the perfect way to hide from them while keeping track of any Immortals who might be a threat to him. Fooled them completely for years." 

"And Logan?" 

"I didn't know about him until he called me. Surprising, that. They all swear an oath never to interfere with the course of our lives. Scientific method, I guess; they think it'll change whatever's supposed to happen to us. Used to be strict rules against any kind of personal relationship, but they've relaxed that some recently. Probably realized that they can find out more by getting closer to us. Still, they're under orders not to reveal themselves to any Immortal who doesn't know about them." He paused. "Don't hold it against Logan. He was obeying the rules. Trying to do the right thing. The fact that he gave himself away and contacted me just shows how serious this situation is." 

"I don't really blame him, but..." There was no real reason to be resentful, Alex knew, and yet that was what he felt, and more. "Just the idea that they've been watching me for hundreds of years, and I didn't know..." 

"Yeah, it's a strange feeling." 

"Like finding out someone's been following you and - and peeping in your windows." He tried to smile. 

"Don't laugh, that's pretty much the way it works sometimes." 

"I don't like it." But his feelings were irrelevant now. "I guess it doesn't matter. We've got a bigger problem to deal with." 

Alex got to his feet and turned away, walking into his bedroom. It was in the closet, hidden inside a disguised wall safe which could be opened only by his touch, using the same kind of genetic lock that was used to protect the morpher itself. He stood looking down at it in his hand for a moment before returning to the living room. 

"I haven't used this in centuries. Time Force has given me a new one, but - somehow it's not the same. If I'm going into action again with my old team, I want to be the original Time Force red Ranger again." He strapped the morpher on his wrist. It felt right, like an old, familiar friend, well worth the effort of having to think up some way to explain how he had it. "I'm ready." 

- - -

"We should call him," Katie announced. 

"Yeah, he wouldn't take this long unless something's wrong," Trip agreed. He waited. Three heads turned, and Jen, Lucas, and Trip all stared at him. "Oh, all right, _I'll_ call." He raised his arm. The morpher doubled as a comm device linked to all Time Force communicators; it should be able to reach Alex wherever he was. "Alex? Alex, are you there?" 

To his surprise, something formed above his morpher, a small three-dimensional image of Alex's head, looking back at him with a guarded expression. Usually only the five original morphers carried visual as well as sound, and Alex's new morpher was of a different design. "Alex?" he asked. 

"Yes, Trip." 

"Uh... are you coming? We're all here." 

"Yes. I went home to get a few things. We were just about to head over there." 

"'We'?" 

"That's right." Alex seemed to hesitate, his eyes moving up to someone Trip couldn't see. "We're going to have a passenger." 

- - -

Geneva. It had been harder to find than he had thought, but there it was. He looked down on it as the little ship flew high overhead. A beautiful sight: a small city along the shore of Lake Geneva in the fading light of a sinking sun, its trademark fountain, the Jet d'Eau, visible even from this height. It brought back memories of narrow streets, shops and restaurants, parks and gardens... and other, less pleasant images. 

He was no longer Patrick Wilford, not in this time and place. He was Adam Pierson again. Just another in the long, long string of names and identities he had used, many of them long forgotten, the closest to a real one being Methos. He sighed. Adam was the name Alexa had known him by, the name she had always called him, even after he had told her the truth. The one she would call him again, after she was cured. 

First, however, there were practical problems. He could hardly land a timeship in the middle of the city. Had to find someplace out of the way, where no one would see him come down, and no one would find the ship. Then he would have to walk, or try to hitch a ride. He had worn clothing he hoped would pass as contemporary under the uniform he had now discarded; but he still would be an odd sight, hopefully not so odd that the local police would stop him and ask to see ID. 

In a wooded area well outside of town he set down. When the ship door opened Methos stood in the doorway for a time, just breathing the air and watching the distant city lights. Right now, in Paris, his former self was trying desperately to recover the Methuselah stone in a last effort to save Alexa and make her immortal, an effort doomed to failure. It probably wouldn't have worked, anyway, even if they had managed it. The stone hadn't done anything to save Daniel Geiger, the renegade Watcher who had tried to steal it for himself. Still, he felt a moment's sympathy for the Methos who belonged in this time, who would soon watch the woman he loved die. 

"No..." he whispered. "Not this time..." This time Alexa would live. History would change. He fought back the uneasy feeling that thought brought and stepped down to the ground, hearing the door slide shut behind him. First stop, the hotel he was living in as Adam Pierson and a change of clothes. Luckily he had kept a detailed journal since his Watcher days and still had the address. Then, in the morning, a visit to Sacré Coeur hospital. After that... a new future waited for them. 

- - -

"Okay. You said to wait until we had time." Lucas swiveled his seat to face them - Alex in particular - and crossed his arms, his eyes challenging. "We're safely in 1996, and en route to Geneva. Autopilot's engaged, and it'll be an hour at least. What's going on? Why did you bring _him_?" Now his gaze shifted to Duncan MacLeod. 

"I'd like to know where you got that morpher first," Jen said, her tone calm but cool. 

Reflexively Alex glanced down. "It's my morpher. The one Wes kept." 

"And how did you get it back?" 

"I didn't go back in time after it, if that's what you're thinking." 

"You haven't answered the question." 

"Uh..." Trip interrupted. "Alex could have - could have sort of inherited it. Maybe it was passed down in Wes's family, and eventually Alex got it. I mean, we all kind of assumed he's Wes's descendant, so it makes sense." 

"Is that true?" Jen's eyes never left Alex's face. 

"Close enough." 

"How long have you had it?" 

"Since before Time Force built it." 

"And you didn't tell us? You must have known what it meant-" 

"Not necessarily. A mysterious device passed down to me with no explanation. What exactly would I have known?" 

"Okay, forget the morpher," Katie said, heading off the flare of irritation in Jen's expression. "What about _him_?" 

"Duncan knows Patrick, and he knows why he came to this time." He explained quickly, in only a few sentences, keeping it as simple as possible, but there was no way to avoid telling them the basic facts. When he had finished they all stared with expressions ranging from fascination to incomprehension. 

"What do you mean, he wants to save a woman he was once in love with? This is a thousand years ago!" Lucas exclaimed. 

Katie nudged him sharply. "Don't you get it? If he was alive a thousand years ago..." 

"You mean he's an _Immie_?" 

"Yes, he's an 'Immie', and so am I." Duncan spoke up for the first time, his eyes narrowing. "That's why I came along. I've known Patrick - whose real name is Methos - for a very long time. We're friends. I want to help both you and him by stopping him without anyone getting hurt." 

"You..." Lucas gulped, his gaze dropping and cheeks reddening slightly. "Sorry, I didn't mean anything." 

"Of course you didn't." Duncan smiled slightly and added with heavy irony, "_Son._" 

Again Katie came to the rescue. "Well, I think it's very romantic." 

"Unfortunately, it's also very dangerous to the timeline," Alex answered. 

"I know; it's just - too bad we can't let him do it." 

"I wish we could, too." Alex noticed as Jen gave him a slightly surprised look. 

Lucas spoke up after a moment of silence. "Our instruments can locate his ship, once we get there." 

"He won't stay in the ship," Duncan said. "I remember he was living in a hotel room, and I'm sure he kept it rented while he was in Paris. He'll go there, get clothes and whatever else he needs. Unfortunately, there are a lot of hotels in Geneva, and I don't remember which one. He was only here for a month or two, so we can't exactly look him up in the phone book." 

"We need to find him before he can get to Alexa," Jen said. "Are you sure you can't remember where he's staying?" 

"Do you remember where your friends were living twenty years ago, let alone a thousand? Of course, you were barely out of diapers twenty years ago." 

"Okay, we get the point." Katie had stepped in again. Vaguely Alex resolved to look into a commendation for her. "So what do we do now?" 

Duncan leaned back, linked his hands behind his head, and smiled. "I suggest we find a good landing place, settle down for the night, and find out when visiting hours at Sacré Coeur Hospital start." 

- - -

  
TBC... 


	4. Geneva

Rated PG: some language, mild violence. 

Alex/Wes, Jen, Trip, Lucas, Katie and all other characters from Power Rangers belong to Disney/Saban. Methos and Duncan belong to Davis/Panzer Productions. I am using them without permission, however I have not and don't expect to make money from this.

Reviews are always appreciated. 

**The Price**

* * *

Geneva

- - -

_Alex Drake's Journal, March 16, 1996_

_They say you can't go home again, and they're right. I'm back in my own past, again, and again I know I don't belong anymore. _

At least this time there's no danger of coming face to face with my former self. In 1996 I was finishing my last year of college, and considering whether to start working at Bio-Lab the way my father wanted when I graduated. I would end up taking the job, of course, mostly out of the lack of anything else to do. Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if Jen and the others hadn't come along; whether I would have stayed and spent the rest of my days as a company bureaucrat, and hating it, never becoming a Ranger, never discovering that I had been born Immortal. 

It was also four years after I had graduated from prep school, where I had met Eric. He was in the Army, five years away from joining the Silver Guardians and running into me again. If we only had time, and if it wouldn't be against the rules... When I was in 2001 a few months ago I got to see Dad again, one more time, but not Eric. He'd just scowl at me or insult me of course... but I think I'd like that. 

They say you can't go home again, and it's true. You can't recapture the past, the way Patrick – Methos - is trying to do. 

- - -

It was smaller, but otherwise looked very much like the timeship they had ridden in, a sphere set on a narrow base with a conical drive section mounted at the back. Duncan frowned at it. Ugly things. Whatever had happened to ships that were designed to be beautiful as well as practical? 

The others were still approaching cautiously, except Alex who glanced at him and shook his head slightly. "He's not here," Duncan called out. 

"You can sense each other, right?" Trip asked from a few steps away. 

"Right." Duncan watched as Lucas and Katie circled around the ship while Alex and Jen examined the ground for footprints. "He probably walked into town last night. You wouldn't catch him sleeping in a ship when he's got a comfortable bed available." Duncan rolled his shoulders, which he could swear were still stiff after a night bunking in their own ship. 

"We kind of took off in a hurry, and we didn't know you were coming along. Sorry we don't have anything more comfortable than the chairs," Trip said with a hesitant smile. 

"At least they recline. I've slept in considerably worse places." 

"Yeah, I guess you must have. I mean, you must have seen so much history, done so many things..." Trip's face was alight with a mixture of friendliness and curiosity, as impossible to resist as a puppy. 

"A few. You must have an interesting story, too. There aren't many Xybrians on Earth. What made you come here?" 

Trip shrugged. "When I was a kid, Time Force sent some officers to my planet on a rescue mission after an earthquake. Or Xybria-quake, I guess. I still remember seeing them, in those white uniforms, saving people, helping us rebuild afterwards... I knew that was what I wanted to do too." 

"I bet they were glad to get you. I've heard Xybrians can read minds." 

Trip looked horrified. "That's not true! We can just sense things, like what a person is like, or what they're feeling, or something that's going to happen. Sometimes. Once in a while. It's not very reliable. But anyway, I guess I know what it feels like to be different." He paused, suddenly looking shy. "Lucas really didn't mean to be rude last night; you just took him by surprise." 

"I know." Duncan smiled lopsidedly. "I've run into every reaction from complete acceptance to fear and hatred. Being called an Immie is nothing. At least nowadays I don't have to deal with people thinking I'm the undead, or a demon in human form." 

"I guess. But - but since everyone knows Immortals exist, they're more likely to suspect what's going on when you don't get older." 

"True, sometimes that makes it harder to hide ourselves. And most of us have found it's better to keep our immortality a secret, even now." 

"Yeah. A secret." Trip glanced quickly at Alex before saying, "C'mon, I think we're ready to go." 

Duncan followed more slowly. Trip seemed to have no problems with Immortals, Katie had been friendly, Jen and Lucas more reserved but not hostile in any way. They had accepted him for what he was, at least so far, but he had a feeling things might be different if they were to find out that one of their own was also Immortal. And Trip... Duncan frowned. Why did he get the feeling there was more going on under that green hair than what showed on the surface? 

- - -

Methos took a final look in the mirror before leaving his hotel room. It felt strange to be back in this dimly remembered place again, odd to be wearing these clothes, using this name, literally stepping into the shoes of his past self. He was Adam Pierson again, the man who had first met Alexa less than five months ago, when she was still waiting tables at Joe's bar in Seacouver, Washington. 

Joe was long gone now too, along with his bar. Methos wondered if he'd even recognize Duncan MacLeod's former Watcher if he saw him now. In time, the faces of companions, friends, lovers, wives; they all faded and vanished into the vastness of time, no matter how well loved. And Alexa? Closing his eyes, he reached into his mind and found the image of her face still fresh and clear, the way she had looked the night they had their first real conversation, the way she had smiled, and laughed nervously when he asked her out. 

He had known women who were more beautiful, made love to some of them, even married a few. But somehow he had known immediately that she was different. Something in the fragility of a figure that bordered on thin, in the delicacy of her features, in the gentleness and vulnerability of her expression. Something so special that despite his long experience he had been reduced to a fumble for words as she approached his table. He hadn't really been surprised when she refused at first. He _had_ been surprised when she turned back to him, hesitated, and asked a simple question, her expression - no hint of joking or flirtation - making it not so simple to answer after all. 

_"Why do you want to go out with me?" _

"Because... the alternative is unthinkable." 

He had been so happy when she said yes. So happy, but for such a short time. Until only a few minutes later, when he told Joe, and saw him turn away, trying unsuccessfully to hide his expression. 

Dying. All mortals are dying, it's just a matter of when, only a difference of a few short years. That was what he had told Joe. It was true, a mortal's lifetime was only a moment for him, and yet Alexa's moment had been so short, so unfairly short. It did make a difference, for her, and for him. 

Methos reached into his pocket, felt the smooth contours of a globe that just filled his hand, and glanced down as he brought it out. It glowed very faintly with a white, pearly light, an indication of the energies inside. He smiled as he dropped it back out of sight and started for the door. 

- - -

They were an odd-looking group, Jen found herself thinking, even letting a little smile lighten her mood. Duncan MacLeod had been here before and was leading the way, his tall, rugged form striding briskly through the streets of downtown Geneva, streets that seemed narrow to her thirty-first century eyes as they wound their way between tightly packed buildings. Then came Lucas, Katie, and Trip, an unusual combination. Or perhaps not, in a city that at this time was a gathering place for people from all over the world. Finally herself and Alex, looking very much like the natives of this northern European city. At least their clothes wouldn't attract attention; Time Force had provided them with outfits suitable for the time period, and Duncan had obviously dressed for the occasion too. 

"Twentieth-century Geneva..." she said, half to herself. "It's fascinating." 

"Yes," Alex's voice answered from beside her. "The United Nations. CERN. Various international organizations. Plus it's a beautiful place." 

"Have you been here before?" 

"Yes. Quite a while ago. Don't really remember much, and it was different then." 

"Yes, everything changes over a thousand years, doesn't it? Everything." They walked for a few more steps before she went on. "Alex, you were friends with Methos, right?" 

He nodded. "At least I thought I was." 

"Did you ever suspect he's Immortal?" 

"I-" Alex seemed to hesitate. "There was a lot about him I apparently never knew," he answered after a moment. 

"What's he like?" 

He shrugged, half-smiling. "I don't know. Intelligent. Educated. Has an odd sense of humor. Didn't talk much about himself, just a remark here and there." 

"But did he seem - well, different?" 

"Everybody's different, Jen. Including you and me." 

"Yeah, but _we're_ human." 

His eyes flickered in her direction, narrowing slightly. "Patrick - Methos - and Duncan are just as human as anyone else." 

"Are they? I mean, no one knows where Immortals come from. They just appear, as babies. They don't get sick; they can heal almost any injury. They don't age, or die. That doesn't seem very human to me." 

"They die." 

"Only by having their heads cut off. Which seems to be kind of a hobby for them." 

"The Game isn't a hobby. Some Immortals try to gain more strength by absorbing the power of those they kill." 

"That's what I mean. What kind of people act that way?" 

"And mortals are never violent, or greedy." Alex's voice was sharp, but then softened. "Immortals have the same human nature as anyone else. And there are plenty, maybe most, who stay out of the Game and just try to have normal lives." 

"Really?" She shot him a sharp glance. "Since when do you know so much about Immortals? Or care so much?" 

He shrugged, not looking at her. "Patrick was good to me once. And Duncan is trying to help. I care about them." 

"Okay, I understand. But they're both good examples. Someone who's lived for over a thousand years must not even think the same way we do. All that experience, all those memories... We must all seem like children to them. Or pets, or something. In fact I'm really surprised that Methos would have been so much in love with that woman that he'd even remember her after so much time, let alone pull something like this to try to get her back." 

"I'm not." Alex's voice was very soft. "Sometimes love is stronger than you seem to think." 

"And why would he do it, anyway? I mean, even if he does save her from her illness, she's only going to live another forty or fifty years. On his scale, that's nothing. And they probably wouldn't stay together anyway. What happens when she gets old, and he's still the same? What happens if he has to leave and start over somewhere else? Is he going to end up telling everyone she's his mother or something? No, it just wouldn't work." 

"Maybe not." 

"I don't think it's fair to either one even to try. It can't last." 

"There's no guarantee that a mortal relationship will last either. And even if it doesn't, maybe it would be worth it. Is love a failure just because it ends someday? I don't think so." 

"Maybe not to someone who's got an unlimited lifetime. Everything ends someday, for someone like that. For us, it's different." She looked up at his face, finding it impassive and guarded. Just like always, never showing anything, not giving anything away, even when they were talking about such an intimate topic, one so close to their own lives. Responding to some spiteful impulse she added, "I'm surprised you have such a romantic attitude. You're always so - practical about everything." 

"And I'm being practical now." His mouth curved in a smile but his eyes were distant, and a hint of irony crept into his voice. "Just think, Immortals are immune to disease. They can't have children. They're very experienced. The perfect lovers." 

Still vaguely irritated for some reason she didn't really want to examine, Jen muttered, "Very funny. Lovers, maybe. But for anything more... those aren't the qualities I'd be looking for." 

"I suppose not. Look, we're getting close to the hospital." He sped up a little, leaving her a few steps behind, as Jen found herself wondering exactly what she had seen in his face just then. He had been smiling, but there had been something - something cold and bleak in his expression that seemed vaguely familiar. 

It came back to her just before she joined the others. Alex had looked - resigned, like someone expecting to be hurt but determined to show as little pain as possible. Just the way he had looked when she had given his ring back to him. With a pang of guilt she remembered what he had said only seconds ago... _'Is love a failure just because it ends someday?'_ He had been talking about them. 

- - -

The air was fresh and cool on his face as Methos followed a walkway along the Geneva harbor, taking a minute to admire the view of ships and boats gliding over blue water that sparkled in the sun. The Jet d'Eau was active, sending a magnificent fountain shooting high above the surface of the lake. He smiled as a fine, wet mist blew over him. 

Alexa had loved this walk, and this view. She had loved beautiful things: art, music, nature. All the things that he had determined to show her, to make sure she experienced while there was still time. When she had agreed to leave Seacouver with him, he had taken a leave of absence from his job as Adam Pierson with the Watchers - a job researching the legendary Methos, he remembered with a wry grin - and they had gone traveling. 

_"Oh, Adam, it's magnificent!" Alexa's face was alight with excitement as she beamed at him before turning back to look out over the vast panorama spread below them, the craggy formations carved out of the earth, the colors piled in layers in the rocky soil, the dizzying depths as the ground plunged from their vantage point to the bottom far below, where the thin silver thread of the Colorado River was barely visible. "I can't believe it's so - so beautiful! And so big!" _

"They don't call it the Grand Canyon for nothing," he murmured. 

"It's strange," she said. "You hear about a place like this. See pictures. See it on television. But nothing prepares you for the real thing. I had no idea it would be so breathtaking." 

He watched her as she looked, taking in the sight, her face so eager, the brisk cool winter breeze lifting her hair and bringing a rosy flush to her cheeks. "No, nothing can prepare you for the real thing..." he said softly. 

Methos blinked back the memory, realizing he had stopped and was staring out over the lake into the depths of the mountains. He reached into his pocket again, feeling for the reassuring surface of the regenerator, and then turned his face towards the hospital again and hurried on. 

- - -

There it was, the feeling, the buzz that meant an Immortal was near. Alex tensed, staring out at the sidewalks from their watching place on a bench outside the main entrance to Sacré Coeur Hospital, partially hidden in the shadow of a tree. Duncan was with Trip and Katie covering the back of the building, just in case, so unless he had left his post it couldn't be him. 

"What is it? Do you see him?" Jen's voice asked from beside him. 

"Not sure. I thought... wait. There." He nodded as a familiar form caught his eye. Not a particularly unusual-looking man, not big, not small, not extremely handsome, not unattractive. Patrick, blending in perfectly in his twentieth-century clothing. _Not Patrick. Methos. _And of course he had sensed Alex too, and was coming to a stop, looking around apprehensively. 

They stood up and Alex started for him, hearing Jen murmur into her morpher to alert the others. Methos stared at him for a startled moment, and then turned towards the hospital doors, obviously intending to get inside before them. But it was already too late; Lucas had been stationed inside the lobby and was even now blocking the way. Methos stopped again, and backed off. 

"Imagine meeting you here," Alex said, and added in a lower tone as he moved closer, "Make things easy on yourself and give up quietly." 

"I don't think so." 

"I wasn't giving you a choice." 

"You have no authority to arrest me here. Try it and the local police will get involved. I have a legitimate identity in this time and place. I suspect none of you do." 

"Maybe not. But we can get you out of here by force if necessary." That sensation again, almost distracting him, but this time Alex knew who it was. 

Methos felt it; his eyes widened and he turned to look as Duncan appeared behind him, Trip and Katie at his side. "MacLeod!" he exclaimed. "I - You're with _them_?" 

"Hello, old friend. Can't say I'm glad to see you, under the circumstances." 

"Nor I you." Methos took another step back, looking for a way out, but the six of them had him surrounded. 

"I came along to stop you from doing this. To take you back home, to 3001." 

"No!" A few people looked up as Methos' voice rose. "If you know why I'm here, you must know I won't give up!" 

"And _you_ must know we can't let you do it," Alex said. "Give it up, it's six against one." 

"What are you going to do, fight me? Drag me back kicking and screaming?" Methos retreated again, away from the walkway. They followed, herding him into the shelter of the trees forming a small park near the hospital entrance, out of direct view and out of earshot of the people passing by. Jen, Trip, Katie, and Lucas hung back, watching, letting Duncan and Alex approach him. 

"No need for violence," Duncan said, his voice soothing but his eyes alert. "We're all on the same side here. Methos, you must see that you can't do this. You'd be changing history. Endangering everyone and everything in our time. I know that's not what you want." 

"All I want to do is save one life. Alexa should have had so many more years... You can't tell me there was any purpose in her dying so young! Or dying that way, gasping her life out, either in pain or so drugged she didn't know what was going on." He reached his hands out in appeal. "What harm can it do to let her live a few more decades? I'm not trying to make her immortal, not this time. She's just an ordinary person; how can giving her a normal lifespan change history?" 

"We don't know," Alex said quietly. "That's the point. _Any_ change can have unexpected results. Maybe in this case nothing would happen, but we can't take the chance. I'm sorry." 

"You're _sorry_?" Methos glared at him, his voice rising again. "You're sorry, but you'll let her die because of some remote possibility-" 

"It's not so remote. When Ransik was in 2001, he and Frax almost caused a major realignment of the timestream that would have caused a catastrophic war between humans and mutants. It took us a year to prevent that, and to put history back on course. Because of his interference, the timeline in this general time period is still patched together, and very fragile. Even a small change could destroy everything. Even saving one woman's life." 

"He's right, Methos," Duncan broke in. "I know how much Alexa meant to you, but you have to understand-" 

"What if it was someone _you_ cared about, Mac? Someone _you_ loved? What if it was Tessa? If you had the chance to prevent her death, would you let anyone stop you?" 

Duncan blinked, a hint of pain crossing his eyes. "I - As much as I'd want to save her, no, I wouldn't do it. Not when it's so dangerous to everyone I know and care about now." 

"Is it really so dangerous? That's a little hard to believe!" Methos turned his angry gaze back on Alex. "You're a damn hypocrite, talking about changing history when you've done it yourself!" 

"What do you mean?" 

"I mean that when it was your own father, you didn't stop to think about history! You went back in time, and you saved him!" 

"That was different," Alex said tightly. His eyes moved involuntarily to Jen's face, finding her staring at him. "He wasn't meant to die." 

"Different because it was someone _you_ cared about? Not meant to die because he was your _father_?" 

"Alex, what's he talking about?" Jen asked. 

"Nothing." 

"_I'll_ tell you, if he won't," Methos snarled. "Your leader here joined you in 2001 to help you against Ransik, but that wasn't the only reason he was there. No, he did something a little extra, didn't he? He saved Alan Collins!" 

"Yes..." Jen faltered. "He saved Wes's father, but..." 

"_His_ father! His!" He glared at Jen and swept a glance at the others. "Don't tell me none of you ever suspected the truth. You're all so blind... Alex Drake _is_ Wes Collins!" As they all stared at him, frozen, he pointed at Alex. "How else do you think he could have used that morpher? Why do you think he still has it now? They're the same damn person! An Immortal, just like me or MacLeod!" 

"_What?_" Katie exclaimed. "You're lying!" 

"I'm not the one who's been lying. Tell them, Alex! Admit it!" 

They had all turned to look at Alex now, except MacLeod. He faced the barrage of their incredulous gazes as Lucas, Katie, and Trip drew closer to Jen. She took a step forward. "Alex?" she whispered. 

"It's true." He felt his heart sink at the shock that ran over her face. 

Lucas and Katie exchanged an astonished glance. "No, it can't be..." Lucas said. "I don't believe it!" 

"It - it would explain a lot," Katie said hesitantly. 

"You - you and Wes... I - I don't understand..." Dismayed, Alex saw Jen raise a hand to her mouth as she swayed slightly. He started for her, but stopped as Katie stepped to her side and put a supporting arm around her. 

"It's not his fault, Jen," Trip said, pausing and then rushing on. "I mean, can't you understand why he didn't tell us? When we met him as Wes, he didn't even know, and then as Alex he didn't want you treating him like a - like he was different from us..." 

"You _knew_ about this?" Lucas demanded, his expression turning abruptly from disbelief to anger as he glared at Trip. "And you didn't tell us?" 

"Leave him alone, Lucas!" Katie cried, and in the next breath, "Trip, how could you not tell me?" 

"Alex..." Jen was still staring numbly, her eyes dazed. "You're... you're Wes?" 

Silence, as three pairs of eyes focused on him again. "I used to be Wes," he said as calmly as he could over his racing heart. "I was Wes when we all worked together in 2001. A thousand years ago, for me. But yes, I grew up as Wes Collins. And yes, I'm an Immortal." 

More silence, as Lucas's face reddened. "I can't believe this!" he burst out again. 

"I never would have suspected..." Katie said faintly. 

"He had us all fooled." Jen's face was white, and her voice quivered slightly. "Especially me." 

"Jen, it wasn't like that..." 

"Uh, guys?" Trip broke in. He pointed. "Where did they go?" 

Alex spun around, to find himself staring at trees and bushes. The five of them were alone. Methos and Duncan had disappeared. 

- - -

  
TBC... 


	5. Duels

Rated PG: some language, mild violence. 

Alex/Wes, Jen, Trip, Lucas, Katie and all other characters from Power Rangers belong to Disney/Saban. Methos and Duncan belong to Davis/Panzer Productions. I am using them without permission, however I have not and don't expect to make money from this.

Reviews are always appreciated.

**The Price**

* * *

Duels

- - -

_Alex Drake's Journal, March 17, 1996  _

Strange how the mistakes we make always seem to come back to haunt us. When you're an Immortal with a past as long as mine, there are so many mistakes, just waiting their turn. Now mine have seen their chance, and taken it.

- - -

"Damn!" Alex muttered, half to himself. "I can't believe we let them get away!"

Four pairs of eyes focused on his face and then quickly dropped away. His teammates' expressions were all various combinations of shock, anger, resentment, and confusion, all except Trip who looked both upset and sympathetic. With the discipline of long practice at hiding his feelings, Alex choked back the impulse to blame them for what was really his fault. His fault for letting himself be distracted, for letting the situation get out of control, for not telling them all the truth long ago, for being an Immortal in the first place.

The damage was done. Both Methos and Duncan were gone. Easy to understand Methos; he had escaped. But what was Duncan up to? They could only hope he wouldn't be an additional problem, that he had only followed Methos either in an attempt to talk to him alone or to find out where he was hiding.

"What do we do now?" Lucas asked, his voice steady and his face under control.

Surprising... Alex adjusted his opinion of his taller teammate up a few notches. "What Methos wants is here, in this hospital. He'll be back. We have to cover the entrance." He thought for another moment. "We also have to make sure he doesn't get to either of the timeships and make another attempt by going a few days or months into the past."

"There are five of us."

"Yes." Alex glanced around at all of them. Jen was pale and avoided his eyes, but they were all at least listening. "Two here. Three to cover the ships. Lucas, can you move the one Methos stole?"

"Of course."

"Good. Move it to where we landed so you can watch both of them. I don't want anyone posted alone. Can't tell how long we'll be waiting."

"Isn't there any way we can track him down?" Katie asked. "Do we have to just wait?"

"Trip?"

Green hair escaped Trip's cap and caught the sun as he shook his head. "No. We have no way to scan Immortals, their lifesigns are normal human." Lucas and Katie exchanged a silent glance. Alex saw Jen's lips compress.

"All right." He hesitated, wondering, and then went on. "Lucas, Katie, Trip, return to the ship. Jen, you're with me."

They hesitated, looking at Jen, and for a moment he thought he'd have to order them to go, until she gave them a curt nod. Lucas turned away, taking Katie's arm as he started back to the street. Trip lingered, his eyes moving from Alex to Jen and back, but then he followed.

Now the hardest part. Alex took a deep breath and faced his former fiancée, the woman he had known and loved in two different lifetimes. "Jen, we need to talk about this-" he started.

"No." She backed away, arms crossed as if hugging herself, only giving him a brief glance from the corner of her eyes as if the sight hurt her. "Alex... Wes... whoever you are. Not now."

- - -

Duncan felt his fingers brush his sword almost of their own accord. His sword - a momentary image came to him of the Japanese katana he had been using in this era of his past, the remembered gleam of light running over the blade bringing an ache of longing. He, along with most Immortals, had given up carrying real swords by the year 3001, although he still had his hidden safely at home. In an age of weapons detectors and surveillance it wasn't practical. Instead, slung from his belt he carried what appeared to be a scrollbook, but - instead of unrolling into a thin, flexible screen electronically displaying a book or magazine page, at the touch of a button it would project an energy blade that looked, felt, and cut just like the real thing. Illegal, of course, but absolutely necessary for his kind.

With a frown Duncan pulled his hand away. There would be no need for that. When he had seen Methos slip away into the trees while the Rangers were busy with their own troubles, he had kept quiet and followed. Better this way. Alex meant well, but Methos wouldn't respond to orders and threats; he needed a friend to talk to him and make him realize what he was doing, to help him decide to give this up.

Unfortunately, keeping Methos in sight without getting close enough to set off his Immortal senses was proving to be difficult in the narrow, winding streets of Geneva. Duncan turned another corner and hesitated. The familiar form was not in sight. Which way had he gone? Wait... movement in the entrance to a small, tree-lined park enclosed in an ornamental fence. Yes, it was him.

Inside the low wall he stopped again, this time as a warning tingle ran through his head. He turned, circling to look all around, backing deeper into the walkways and shade trees and turning again, finally seeing a man step into view from behind the pillars of a small gazebo.

"You followed me," Methos said, his face harsh and eyes wary.

"Obviously."

"And your new friends?"

"I left them behind. It's just you and me, Methos. I thought we should work this out between the two of us."

"How do you suggest we do that?"

Duncan caught the movement of his friend's hand towards a pocket. He held his own hands up, palms out. "I suggest we talk about this. That's all."

"All right. Let's talk." Methos crossed his arms. At least his hands were in sight, and empty of weapons. "I already know what you're going to say. Let's get it over with."

- - -

Alex turned to pace back again, past the bench where Jen was sitting hunched and staring down at her own knees. Neither of them had said a word since her refusal to talk to him. He glanced at her and then looked up. Sun high overhead, a cool breeze rustling the leaves, a lovely, warm day, and yet under these trees he felt a chill.

Another glance at her face; her eyes wide and glazed, as if looking into some nightmare vision. What did she see? What was she remembering? The first time they had met, bumping into each other at the Silver Hills shopping mall in 2001? _"Excuse me!" "Sorry 'bout that."_ But that hadn't been the first time for her. Maybe when they had met a few years ago at Time Force. Or those first tentative dates, dinner now and then, a movie, when they both had time. The day he had proposed._ "I was thinking of something more permanent."_ The evenings together. The nights. How long had it been since they had touched, held each other, made love? An eternity.

Or maybe she was remembering the events that had torn them apart. The fight when Ransik had killed him. _"You and me." "Forever."_ She had no way at the time of knowing his 'death' was only temporary. The brief days he had spent in 2001 as Alex. Saying goodbye when he returned. Their trip to 3000 during the final battle. _Jen silently pulling his ring from her finger and holding it out, her face unhappy but determined._

No, she was probably remembering him as Wes... how he had joined the team, the shared danger - and the excitement, the companionship, the laughter, the - the fun... The five of them happy in their clock tower in spite of everything. Then the end of their mission to bring Ransik back, saying goodbye on the beach. Goodbye. _"I wish I could live a thousand years..."_ Would he have wished it if he had known it could come true?

"Alex."

He blinked, realizing he had stopped and was standing over Jen. She had looked up, finally meeting his gaze. "Yes?" he said as steadily as he could.

"Just tell me why."

"Why what?"

"Why didn't you tell me?" she asked, her voice very low but quivering. "Why did you lie to me all these years? Why did you let me think you were dead? Wes - Alex..." She shook her head slightly. "I don't even know what to call you. I can't believe it. Can't take it in. I can't..." Brown eyes filled with tears raised to his. "I don't know if I'm angry or happy or - or what."

"Jen, let me explain..." He sank down next to her, reaching out, fingers finding the sleeve of her jacket.

"Explain?" She jerked her arm out of his grasp, sliding away from him along the bench. "How can you possibly explain? You - you aren't who I thought you were. Literally. You _deceived_ me. Were you laughing at me the whole time, thinking what a fool I am?"

"I'm sorry. I wish I had told you." He saw her turn her angry face away from him, lips folding tightly together, expression stony and closed. "Look, hit me if you want. Shout at me. But listen to me. Please."

"I - I could understand - sort of - back when you were Wes. No one knew about Immortals then."

"Including me. I had no idea what I was then, not until years after you had left, when another Immortal tried to take my head and killed Eric in the process."

"Eric..." She looked at him again, startled eyes widening. "Oh, God. I read that in the historical records. The man who killed Eric was an Immortal, and he was after you?"

"Yes. I've had to fight quite a few headhunters over the years."

Again her eyes widened. "What - what happened?"

"I defended myself." He watched her face, seeing it pale slightly. "I've had to kill in order to survive. That's the way we live, Jen. Not my choice, but not many of us, mortal or not, get to choose what we are."

"That doesn't sound like Wes."

"It's Wes with a thousand years of experience, not all of it pleasant." He hesitated. "I was Wes so long ago... sometimes - most of the time - I think of him as another person. But when it comes down to it, everything I've done and everyone I've been is still a part of me, including him. Especially him. I grew up as Wes, became a man as Wes. It was as Wes that I became an Immortal. And... it was Wes who fell in love with you."

She gave a huff of humorless laughter. "Love. Maybe you loved me as Wes, but as Alex... you lied, or at least hid the truth." Anger was back in her voice and face. "Do you have any idea of how confused I was? What I went through while we were in 2001? I thought you were _dead_! How could you let me go on thinking that? Then I started to fall for Wes, and felt so disloyal, and so much more when you showed up again as Alex, and I was cheating on you, not physically, but in my heart... And now - I wasn't cheating at all, was I? Then I thought I'd lost Wes forever, but... Why didn't you tell me? What kind of love lets you hide something like that from me?"

"I'm sorry you were hurt. I wish I could have prevented it. But I won't apologize beyond that." Alex drew in another deep breath. "I may be Immortal and a thousand years old, but I'm still human. I make mistakes. I get confused, and afraid. I get hurt, on the inside, where it doesn't heal so easily. Look at what you said to me before about Immortals, how you're reacting right now, at how Lucas reacted to Duncan. Over the last thousand years, some people did find out the truth about me. Some of them took it well. Some just - turned away. Some tried, but they couldn't control their envy, or fear, or whatever. Some ended up hating me. And that's why I didn't tell you."

- - -

"Do you expect me to just give up and go back with you?" Methos' voice held an edge of anger as sharp and cold as the point of a sword.

"I expect you to be reasonable."

"And that means go back to 3001 like a good little boy, and let Alexa die all over again."

"Methos..." Duncan sighed. "You can't change history. You must know that."

"But I can. It's been done before. Alex did it."

"All right, maybe you can save Alexa. But what then? You already exist in this time. It won't be your present self who'll be with her, it'll be you of 1996. When you return to 3001, she'll still have been dead for centuries. All you'll have is a few more memories."

"But Alexa will have had the chance that was taken away from her, to live a decent number of years, to do all the things she should have had time to do. To have children. To grow old."

"They won't be _your_ children. And she probably won't grow old with _you_."

"You don't understand at all, do you?" Methos took a few restless steps, moving from one tree-cast shadow to another as Duncan pivoted to keep him in view. "This isn't for _me_. It's for _her_. Whether the rest of her life is spent with me or not, it doesn't matter. I want her to have that time. I want her to at least have the choice of having children, of seeing some part of her live on, forever. That's their version of immortality. Maybe when we go back to 3001, her descendants will be all around us. Maybe not. But I want that possibility for her."

Unexpectedly moved, Duncan spent a few moments searching for an answer. "I understand, believe me. If it wasn't so dangerous, I'd be the first to help you. But we have to think about the people who already exist in our time, and what this could do to them."

"What harm could it do to let Alexa die at her proper time?"

He had to say it, even if it turned his friend's face to stony hurt and anger. "Methos, she _did_ die at her proper time. This is the way it was meant to be. Can't you see that?"

"No! I may not have done a great many good things in the world, but saving Alexa is going to be one of them. And I won't let you stop me." This time when Methos' hand reached into his pocket it came out with a short black cylinder. With the touch of a trigger, it elongated, light flashing along the curve of a sub-space generated blade. Not normal, solid matter, Duncan knew, not a real sword, but just as capable of separating his head from his body.

- - -

Alex was wondering whether to break the silence that had begun to stretch out between them when Jen did it for him, momentarily disorienting him with a change of subject.

"You knew everything that was going to happen, didn't you? But you didn't do anything to stop it. You knew Ransik was going to escape. Why didn't you help us transport him to prison? With you there we could have stopped him, and none of this would have happened."

"I thought of it. In fact, that's what I intended to do. But - when Trip told me the story, when I was Wes, I didn't pay attention to all the details. And you forget a lot over a thousand years. I wasn't sure exactly when and where Ransik would make his move. Then, when the transfer was made, I wasn't informed. I didn't know about it until it was too late."

"And later? The fight at the prison ship?"

"Again, I knew it was going to happen but didn't know or didn't remember the details. I thought I was prepared. Thought I could take him; I'd done it before. Obviously, I was wrong."

"And - and..." She stared at him. "Did you...?"

"Yes, I died. For real. Woke up a day later in the Time Force morgue." Where Patrick-Methos had been waiting.

"Why didn't you contact us? Tell us you were alive?"

"I wanted to. For one thing, it took Time Force a while to release me from the hospital, despite the fact that they couldn't find anything wrong with me. Then they took a few weeks before they'd let me come back on active duty. Maybe they were right." He frowned. "Maybe Logan was trying to protect me, since it would have looked strange if I showed up strong and healthy right after being 'almost' killed. And then... I didn't know what to say, how to tell you. I ended up waiting a few more weeks until I was due to show up in person."

"In person. Right. Why did you tell Wes - tell yourself - that his father was going to die? You must have known it wasn't true."

He had been expecting that question, sooner or later. "Ransik had changed the timeline with his attack. In the new version, Dad _had_ died. I knew I had to try to save him, but it was more important to stop Frax's attack. There was always the possibility that things wouldn't go the way I remembered as Wes. It seemed better not to give false hope."

"And it got Wes out of the way for you." Her glance was resentful.

"Yes, it did. It was necessary that I be there for that first battle, to prevent you from accidentally blowing yourselves up. Besides..." He felt his lips twist into a slight, ironic smile. "I knew that's what was supposed to happen: thinking Dad was about to die, giving up my morpher as Wes and then getting it back, the whole thing. I'd lived through it before, remember."

"Okay." She took a deep breath. "Okay, then... When he - you - tricked us into going back to 3000, why did you tell us Wes had died fighting Ransik and Frax? Why did you try to erase our memories?"

That was less straightforward, and more likely to make her angry, but he owed her the truth. "I knew you would return to 2001 to save me and stop the attack on Silver Hills, but I couldn't tell you that without giving myself away - and without possibly changing history by telling you too much about what was going to happen. The normal procedure at that point would have been memory dampening after a traumatic time travel experience, and return to duty. You were all trained officers; you would have gone through with it if you had known everything in 2001 had turned out all right. Yes, I lied, but the only sure way I knew to get you to break the rules and go back again was to tell you Wes had died."

"Then why did you want us to return to 3000 in the first place? Why not just leave us there?"

"If I had, you might have been killed in the first attack. We couldn't send you any help while the Q-Rex and Doomtron were fighting, remember. Later, after the Q-Rex was almost destroyed and Eric was injured and unable to fight, you went back with the Megazord. Without it, you would have lost." He watched her face as she thought about it. "It was hard, not telling you," he said softly. "Having to manipulate all of you like that. But much more than your feelings was at stake. Still, I'm sorry."

"I see." To his relief, she seemed to accept it without outward anger. "I still don't understand..." Jen's voice was calmer now, but her expression was still cold, except for the hurt in the brown eyes that came up to look at him. "Why didn't you tell me later, after it was all over? You're right; maybe I wouldn't have taken it very well, at first. At least you could have tried. You could have trusted me."

"I know. Maybe I made the wrong decision, but I didn't want to take the chance."

"The chance of what? We had broken up. You acted so distant, like you didn't even want to be friends anymore. What risk would you have been taking? Did you actually think I would have told people, exposed you and - and ruined your life as Alex Drake?"

"Try not to take this the wrong way." He paused, but she was looking at him expectantly, her brows creased in the way he had always found so endearing... "Over the years I've found that you can never be sure of what someone will do, no matter how well you think you know them. You're right; in this case I should have trusted you. I should have known better. But I was afraid... not that you would speak out against me, but that you would end up hating me, or thinking of me... as not quite human." He watched her face closely, thinking he saw both hurt and guilt in her reaction. "Is that what's happened now, Jen?" he asked softly.

- - -

"I don't want to fight you, Methos," Duncan said, holding his arms out, careful not to make any sudden moves.

"And you know I'm not eager to fight, either, especially when I know you're likely to win. But maybe this proves that I mean what I say. Short of fighting, you're not going to stop me."

"Damn it, why are you being so stubborn?"

"Stubborn?" Unexpectedly, Methos smiled, a not entirely friendly expression. "I said it before - what if it was Tessa? If you had the chance to save her from being murdered by a random thug? Wouldn't you be _stubborn_?"

_Tessa... He was on the sidewalk beside their car, kneeling over her, lifting her into his arms. Beside him, Richie shivered back into life, gasping, hand reaching for where the mugger's bullet had struck. But there was no revival for Tessa. Bullets had no respect for their love, their plans to marry, no compassion for her mortality._

Duncan shook his head. "And I have the same answer as before. I loved Tessa very much, maybe more than I've loved any other woman. I'd give a great deal to be able to save her - but not if it means endangering everything."

"Then what about Richie?" Duncan felt his face stiffen and saw Methos' eyes flare as his barb struck home. "Yes, Richie Ryan. Remember him? How old was he when he died? Early twenties? Young, even for a mortal. What would you give to have the chance to prevent _his_ death? If you could take back that moment, that mistake, if you could make it never have happened? If you could live without the guilt of knowing _you_ killed him? He was one of us, an Immortal; he was cheated out of hundreds or maybe thousands of years, not just a few decades."

It hurt, even more than the mention of Tessa. Guilt - it hadn't been his fault, not really; he had been tricked, but it had been his hand that struck down his own Immortal student and protégé, the young man he and Tessa had taken in from the streets of Seacouver and treated almost like a son. _The katana flashed through the air, slicing cleanly, and the head of the creature pretending to be Richie fell to the floor with a thud... It was only when the Quickening began and the unmistakable essence of Richie's life and strength and soul poured into him that he realized the terrible mistake he had made. _Not his fault - and yet he had never stopped blaming himself. "Not fair," Duncan muttered.

"You could do it. It would be so easy. A word of warning, to either him or the MacLeod who belongs in this time. We could go home to find Richie alive. Don't you owe him that?"

Almost against his will, Duncan reached to his belt and unclipped his own weapon. As the curved blade flashed into existence, he took a deep breath, trying not to react in anger, or worse, in response to the prickle of fear he felt at how strongly he was tempted to give in, to help Methos save his woman, and then to save the two people he had cared for and lost in this time; to forget the future; it was a thousand years away, it could take care of itself...

"No," he said forcefully. "I'm sorry, Methos, and I understand better than you probably think. But I can't let you do this. Too much depends on it. I think you know that, even if you won't admit it." He held the sword up, blade angled above his head, and started his approach.

Methos swung without warning, not a blow seriously intended to do harm, but forcing him to step back and defend himself. The weapons clashed with a loud ring of energy-generated metal on metal. "You're a fool, Mac!" he shouted. "You were always a bloody idealistic fool!"

"You're interfering with forces you don't understand, risking the future of the world for love. You work at Time Force, you know the danger. Which of us is the fool?"

Was that uncertainty in the other man's face? Just a fleeting expression, and the nervous shifting of his fingers on the sword hilt. Methos hesitated for a moment, sword lifted, as Duncan wondered if he had listened and understood. But then the blade was flashing down. Duncan blocked it easily, but Methos took advantage of the instant he was off-balance to whirl and run.

Too late, Duncan realized their shouting and brief swordfight had attracted a small crowd, people scattering as Methos shoved through them. He started in pursuit, only to find himself face to face with a dark-haired, strongly-built teenager who eyed Duncan's sword tensely but refused to move.

"What's going on here?" the young man demanded.

Duncan hesitated. The kid didn't look like he was going to back down, and he had friends - an equally young black man and an Asian girl were at his side. There was a shrill whistle in the distance, announcing that the police were probably on their way. "Nothing. Nothing at all," he muttered, and turned his back, transforming his sword back into a harmless gray metal tube and walking away as quickly and inconspicuously as he could.

- - -

  
TBC... 


	6. Fade Away

Rated PG: some language, mild violence. 

Alex/Wes, Jen, Trip, Lucas, Katie and all other characters from Power Rangers belong to Disney/Saban. Methos and Duncan belong to Davis/Panzer Productions. I am using them without permission, however I have not and don't expect to make money from this.

Reviews are always appreciated. 

**The Price**

* * *

Fade Away

- - -

_Alex Drake's Journal, March 17, 1996 _

Oddly enough, it's almost a relief to have my secret revealed. Hiding something like that from the people closest to me was a burden I wasn't really aware of until now, when it's gone. Even with the shock and anger I saw in their faces, it's better to have it out in the open. Except... when I see Jen turning away from me. 

- - -

"Ah, Methos, old friend, where are you? What are you doing?" It was just a soft mutter to himself. Duncan sighed as he reached another corner and looked down more streets, trying to pick out a familiar face among the strangers. 

It had been hours. Methos had probably gone back to wherever he was staying. If he had any sense - which he did - he wouldn't come out again until he thought he had a chance to get past the Time Force officers and Duncan himself, and into the hospital. But when? Not right away; he'd know they'd be waiting. At night? Would he be able to get in? How tight was the hospital's security? If he had told the staff he was Alexa's husband, they might let him in at any time. 

The hospital... He was only a few blocks away. No point in this wandering; Methos wouldn't be so easy to find. With another sigh, Duncan retraced the path he had taken with the others this morning, and turned into the hospital grounds, automatically scanning the faces of the people in sight, and then raising his gaze to the rows of windows in the building rising above him. Which one was Alexa behind? She was just one of the many people here who were sick and dying, one of the many personal dramas being played out inside those walls - but she was also a part of a greater conflict, one which could affect the fate of all these people around him, or rather their distant descendants. 

There it was - the buzz at the back of his head, his Immortal sixth sense. Could it be Methos after all? Or... no, Alex stepped out from the trees, and waited for him to approach. 

"Where have you been?" Alex's eyes were blue ice, the hard light of suspicion was back. 

"Trying to reason with Methos." 

"You saw him go, and didn't alert us?" 

"I know." Duncan grimaced. "You're probably right, I should have kept him from leaving. I just thought maybe if I talked to him alone, I could change his mind without a fight." 

"And?" 

With a shrug, Duncan admitted, "Nothing. I caught up, and confronted him. He wouldn't listen. Damn, he even pulled a sword on me. He wasn't really trying to hurt me, just distract me and attract attention, and it worked. He ran. There was a crowd and the police, and I couldn't follow." 

"Did you at least find out where he's living?" 

"No." He held up a hand at Alex's angry expression. "You don't have to say it. I screwed up." 

Alex glared at him for a moment, and then glanced farther into the trees, where Jen sat on a bench, not quite watching them. His shoulders slumped. "It was my fault more than yours," he finally said. "We're the ones who got distracted and let him get away." 

"Well. That's not the point now, is it? What are we going to do about Methos?" 

"Keep watch, both here and at the ships. Methos' whole reason to be here is in that hospital. He'll be back." 

"Agreed." Duncan nodded decisively. "If it's okay with you, I'd like to stay here. Have another chance to talk to him, if he shows up." 

"Not a bad idea. Jen can go back to the ship and get some rest." 

As Alex started to turn away, Duncan stopped him with a touch on the arm. "How'd they take it?" he asked softly. 

"As well as I could expect, I guess." Alex's eyes were on Jen. 

"Is she... Are you...?" 

"We were. It ended, for a few reasons." Alex sighed, glancing back at Duncan. "Things are never easy between a mortal and an Immortal... I'm sure you know that." 

"I've been there a few times. Even if they can accept your Immortality, even if they can live with getting older while you stay the same..." He smiled, a little sadly. "Well, nothing can last forever, can it, mortal or not? I hope you work it out." 

"I doubt it." Alex stared at Jen for only another moment before squaring his shoulders. "If you're staying here, I'll send her back to the ship. I'm sure she'll be glad to get away from here." _And away from me,_ was what his expression clearly added. 

- - -

Their emotions were so strong he could 'hear' them, like a soft whisper at the back of his mind, not that he needed Xybrian senses to know what they were feeling. The angry set of Lucas' mouth and the way Katie avoided his eyes were quite enough. 

Trip tried a smile, but only got a glare from Lucas. He watched as his taller teammate turned his back and jabbed at a few more controls, then powered down the engine of their ship. 

"I guess that's it," Lucas announced. "Both ships' security systems are locked to our morphers. No one can start either of them up except one of us." 

"Good," Katie said. "So now what?" 

"Now we wait." Lucas spun his seat around and crossed his arms. "And we have plenty of time to talk." He smiled, an expression that did nothing to reassure Trip. 

- - -

Jen walked away from the hospital grounds, barely aware of the people passing her, staring blindly ahead with no real idea of where she was going, Alex's voice telling her to return to the ship slowly blending into other memories... 

_"After Ransik's locked up, it's you and me." _

"What's the matter? You look like you've just seen a ghost." 

"I'm sorry I was a little hard on you. You're excellent Rangers." 

"Don't worry. Everything you've always wanted is waiting for you in the future." 

"I don't want you to go. You could be destroyed." 

"I love you too... I wish I could live a thousand years..." 

Wes. Alex. It still hardly seemed real. And yet... now that she knew, she couldn't understand how she hadn't known from the start. Wes and Alex. Wes-Alex. Impossible not to think of them as different people. But... 

She had known it couldn't possibly be Alex, and shoved that part of herself that had instinctively recognized him so far from the surface of her mind that it had never spoken up again except in vague whispers that she had dismissed as wishful thinking. Wes was so different in personality, after all, there could be no question of it. 

Or could there? Were they really so different? Only on the surface, she realized now, only in the ways that would naturally change as a person grew up and lived a very long and difficult life. Alex was more serious than Wes, tougher, stronger. No, not stronger, they both had a core of inner resilience that had always kept them going. Alex was - harder, Wes was nicer, Alex was dependable, Wes could always make her laugh. Both were kind, generous, dedicated, loving, brave... Wes had been a boy when she had known him; Alex was a man. Like two sides of the same coin, their faces, light and dark, spun past each other in her mind, finally blending into one. 

- - -

Home... or what had been home for a time, centuries ago. Methos heard the door click shut behind him and leaned against it, eyes closed. This was the hotel room where he had lived while Alexa suffered through her final weeks. Days spent in the hospital watching the woman he loved fade away into a painful death. He raised a hand to push trembling fingers through his hair. Why was it that out of all his memories, that one stayed so fresh and vivid? And why did it melt into another, more recent memory, of another dying face... 

Was Duncan right, was he doing this because of Dory? Had her death pushed him over the edge, sent him on a dangerous fool's errand, trying to resurrect a love from the past? Couldn't claim he had always been a shining example of sanity throughout the millennia he'd survived, after all. 

No... No, it was Alexa, had always been Alexa. It was important to remember her, to remember the times before, while she was still strong, when all that mattered was making sure the rest of her life would be filled with all the experiences, all the seeing, and hearing, and doing, that should have taken decades... 

_She was standing on the balcony of their hotel room, looking out over an ocean lit by the deep pinks and violets of a Greek sunset, back turned to him, her form outlined in fading light, her arms crossed and shoulders slightly hunched. _

"Enjoying the view?" he asked. As her head lifted, he stepped close behind her and encircled her waist with his arms, trying not to notice how tiny that waist had become, how he could feel every rib as she took a deep breath. 

"It's beautiful. And the air smells so wonderful." 

He nuzzled her hair. "Not as beautiful as you." 

"Adam..." She turned in his arms and leaned her head against him. "You really shouldn't be doing all this for me. Spending all this money." 

"I can afford it." 

"And all this time... There must be other things you should be doing." 

"Nothing as important as this. Look..." He waited until her face raised to his. "This is all really for me, you know. Seeing you here, watching you enjoy the places we've gone, the things we've seen, and..." he smiled, "the things we've done together... It's like starting over. Like seeing everything in the world through new eyes again." 

She only smiled, reached up, and pulled his head down to hers... 

There should have been no need for memories dimmed by a thousand years; Alexa could have been alive, well again, here with him right now, ready to relive those days and look forward to the future instead of dreading it, if only MacLeod and Alex hadn't interfered. He had to go back to her. But how? Mac and Alex wouldn't give up; they'd be waiting, along with their Ranger friends. Too many for him to fight, even if he'd been so inclined. He scrubbed his hand over his face and stared into the room blankly. Had to go back. Had to find a way. For Alexa. 

- - -

"It was your Xybrian senses, wasn't it?" Katie's tone was accusing. "Did you know all along?" 

Trip sighed inwardly. He had hoped - what? That Jen, Lucas, and Katie would never find out? No, he had hoped Alex would tell them himself someday, and that he'd never have to make the explanations he faced now. 

"W-well," he started. "I kinda thought it was Alex when we saw Wes the first time at the shopping mall, after he saved Jen. Sorta thought I recognized his - his mind. But you have to understand, it's not like I was sure, it was like the way Wes looked like Alex, just weird, I didn't think it meant anything, but then when he could use the morpher I was kinda sure because that should be impossible-" 

"You're babbling," Lucas said sternly. 

"I know. I'm sorry." Trip folded his hands and looked down at them. 

"So when Wes became the red Ranger, you were sure." Katie's voice was calmer, to his relief. 

"Yeah, I guess. Took a while, but I figured the only possibility was that Alex was an Immortal and we were meeting him earlier in his life." 

"Why didn't you tell any of us?" 

"Wes had grown up in Silver Hills. He really was the age he seemed to be. I was pretty sure that he didn't even know it yet, that he hadn't - hadn't died the first time and turned Immortal yet. If he didn't know and I told him, that might change history. Besides, what good would it have done?" He looked up pleadingly. "It didn't make any difference that I could see. Would have just been confusing. It was confusing enough, just for me." 

"Confusing?" Now Katie sounded just a little sympathetic. 

"Yeah, sure, I mean things were bad enough with Ransik and everything, and I knew this big secret and couldn't talk about it to anyone... Even my best friends... I just tried to do the right thing the best I could and now you _hate_ me..." He sniffled. 

"Trip..." Katie shook her head, stood up, and the next moment pulled him into a crushing bear hug. "You poor thing!" 

"Poor thing, my ass," Lucas muttered. 

"Leave him alone, Lucas! Can't you see what he's been going through?" 

"I can see he's got you wrapped around his little finger, just like always!" 

Trip raised his head to find his two friends glaring at each other. "Come on, guys," he said helplessly. "We shouldn't be fighting each other!" 

"He's right. Knock it off, both of you." 

The quiet words were like ice water thrown on Lucas and Katie. All of them turned to face the doorway. Jen was standing there. Her eyes were puffy and moist with tears, her nose red, but the expression on her face was pure Time Force commander, firm and controlled. 

"Jen? What are you doing here?" 

"Duncan came back. He and Alex are covering the hospital. Alex wants us to get some rest, so we can relieve them later tonight." She advanced inside, found her usual seat, and paused, fingers brushing the chair back. After a moment she spoke again, not looking up. "I know we've all had a shock. We're upset. But we have a job to do here, an important one. We've already let our feelings interfere, and that's why Methos is still loose. After this is over, we can worry about - about what happened. Not now." Her eyes lifted to meet each of theirs, steady and dignified despite the traces of tears. "Do I make myself clear?" 

There was a brief chorus of, "Yes, sir," from all three, before Jen sat and swiveled her chair away, hiding her face from them. 

- - -

Methos paced the small room as if it was a prison. To the balcony, look out over the street below at the uncaring strangers walking by; back to the kitchen; stare around, look at the front door. Had to get to Alexa. But how? Again a doubt assailed him... was this all a mistake? Was he doing the right thing? Both Duncan and Alex were so set against it... In a moment of honesty he could no longer persuade himself that they were doing this without a good reason. Time, history, he had no right to change the course of events, not after the world of his own time had come so close to disaster because of Ransik's interference. The danger... 

No. He couldn't let himself think that way. Alexa needed him. He had promised himself he'd find a way to save her, that day so long ago when the crisis they had been dreading had come... 

_He had heard the shower running when he woke up. It was twenty minutes later now; he was back from the kitchen after starting a pot of coffee. The water was still going. Alexa never took this long. Heart starting to pound, he knocked on the door, heard his name called faintly, opened it to find her on the cold floor, struggling to get up. _

Despite her protests he insisted on the hospital, but gave in when she asked him to drive. "No sirens, no ambulance. No fuss." He drove too fast, parked haphazardly in front of the emergency entrance. Almost before the engine stopped he was out, helping her up, then lifting her into his arms. She felt no heavier than a feather, so thin and light she seemed insubstantial. 

At the door she stopped him, eyes raised to his in appeal. "Put me down. I want to walk in. And I don't want a stretcher or a gurney. I want to sit in a chair and sign the forms myself." 

He hesitated, but only for a moment, before setting her on her feet, a supportive arm around her waist. He knew she needed this last gesture of independence and choice, before control of her own life was taken from her forever. 

Alexa. So brave. She had always had more courage than anyone he knew, especially himself. Maybe she had faced her own death with quiet resignation, but he never had. Even when it had become a memory, he had never accepted it. And now, he wouldn't have to... if he could find a way back into that hospital... 

- - -

"I don't like it..." 

Duncan looked up at the sound of Alex's voice. The other Immortal was sitting on the bench next to him, outwardly relaxed, but his face was tense with worry. "Like it or not, nothing we can do but wait," he said. 

"Sooner or later someone's going to notice how long we've been here, and get suspicious." 

Duncan sighed. "Do you have any better ideas?" 

"No." Alex drummed his fingers impatiently on the wooden back of the bench. "We don't have unlimited time. The longer we're here, the more chance that we'll do some kind of damage." 

"Damage? What do you mean?" 

"We could accidentally do something that would alter the timeline. Never know when one of us might say the wrong thing to the wrong person, or just be in the wrong place. Plus some of us - you, me, and Methos - have previous versions in this time. We have to avoid coming into contact with them." 

"I was in Seacouver and Paris in 1996. Not Geneva. Not much chance of bumping into myself. And I assume you were living in Silver City." 

"It was Silver Hills, then. Yes. Not much danger for the two of us. But Methos... What was his name then? Now?" 

"Adam Pierson." 

"Right. He was staying here. You said he's in Paris right now, but sooner or later he'll be back for Alexa. Damn." Alex's hand balled into a fist. "How are we even going to know which is the former Methos and which is the one from 3001? We can't afford to interfere with the one who belongs in this time. We _have_ to find him, and soon." 

"You're right." Duncan stared at him. "Methos was only in Paris for a few days. He could be back at any time. In fact..." He jumped to his feet, suddenly electrified by alarm. "I have an idea. Do you have any coins?" 

"Yeah, Time Force provided us with money, just in case..." Alex reached into his pocket. 

"Wait here. I'm going to make a call." 

After a quick look around, he realized the best place to find a public telephone was inside the hospital. Once there, he also realized he didn't remember the phone number. Mumbling curses, he followed the instructions printed on the phone and his own dim memories of how to use it, and soon was talking to an operator and realizing just how long it had been since he had last spoken French. 

"Je veux un numero de telephone en Paris, s'il vous plaît. Oui, merci." 

It was only after the number had been found and the call went through, when Joe Dawson's voice answered, that it hit him. A wave of nostalgia so strong it was physically painful swept over Duncan, for a moment closing his throat and blurring his vision. Joe, once one of his closest friends, Joe who had known more about him than perhaps anyone before or since. Joe, his Watcher, who had died almost a thousand years ago. 

_"Mac? Are you there?"_ the familiar voice repeated in his ear, impatience creeping into it. 

"Yes. Yes, Joe, I'm here," Duncan managed. 

_"Well, why don't you speak up, then? Is something wrong?"_

"Wrong... Uh... Joe, it's Methos. Adam." Duncan took a deep breath and tried to concentrate. "Have you heard from him?" 

_"Not today."_ Joe's voice sharpened with curiosity. _"Didn't you see him off to the airport an hour ago? What's going on?"_

"Nothing. Nothing at all." 

"_You sound strange. Something's happened, hasn't it?"_

"No, I - I wasn't sure if he went straight to the airport." 

_"Mac..."_

"Forget it. Like I said, it's nothing." 

There was a pause, then a reluctant, _"If you say so. Anything else I can do for you?"_

"No. That's it. Joe..." 

_"Yeah?"_

Duncan hesitated, head bowed, the phone clutched in his hand. So much he wanted to say, but couldn't. How do you tell someone how much you miss him, when you can't say why? When as far as he's concerned, you saw each other yesterday. Finally he sighed. "It's good to talk to you again." 

The voice on the other end was puzzled and slightly amused. _"You sound like you haven't seen me in years. Look, I gotta go. See you later."_

"Yeah. Goodbye, Joe." Slowly, he hung up, allowing himself a few seconds before he faced the next step. 

- - -

There wasn't much time. Methos stopped his pacing and stood uncertainly. In 1996 he had gone to Paris in a last attempt to change Alexa's fate by recovering the Methuselah stone. _The legend is that whoever holds the stone can never be defeated._ That hadn't worked, and had almost resulted in his own death. Afterwards he had returned to Geneva, resigned to losing her, and gone back to the hospital. 

_He stopped under the trees surrounding the building's front entrance, suddenly dreading the thought of entering that dreary room to see her lying there. Would she be even thinner? Frailer? How could he face her, after failing to find a way to save her? Would she even hear him, even know him? But as he contemplated just turning around and leaving, he knew there was no real choice. He was in this until the end, until the brief flicker that was Alexa's life was gone._

He had cut it too close. His former self would be returning soon. Today, in fact. He would come back, and go to that hospital, stop in front and think about it, then walk inside and up to see Alexa, finding her weaker than ever, drugged against the pain, so sick that her death a few days later would be a relief... 

And that was when the answer hit him. 

- - -

Alex got to his feet as Duncan returned, both his fast pace and the set of his face clearly broadcasting trouble. "What is it?" he demanded. 

"The 1996 Methos is coming back today. Now. He should be arriving at the Geneva airport in an hour or two." 

"But..." 

"Yeah. How will we know which is which?" 

"Wait." Alex thought a moment, examining his idea before looking up. "One of us can go to the airport. Spot him when he arrives and tail him. Might even lead us to where he's staying." 

"That could work." 

"I'll go. In this time, he doesn't know me." 

"Yeah. Then, when he comes here..." Duncan trailed off, his mouth opening soundlessly. 

"What? What's wrong?" Alex asked, alarm trickling down his spine. 

"I just realized what Methos, our Methos, is going to try. The only way for him to get that regenerator past us to save Alexa. He knows we can't interfere with his past self. He knows we'll let 1996 Methos go right into the hospital." 

"So?" 

"So... What if he gives the regenerator to himself?" 

"Shit!" Alex stared at him. "He could meet himself at his hotel, or at the airport. Tell himself what's going on." 

"Hand over the regenerator. Then come back here and turn himself in. We'd leave before 1996 Methos even gets here. He must be hoping we wouldn't figure out what's going on until it's too late." 

"He saves Alexa - and contaminates the timeline even more by letting his former self know about time travel, and maybe about his own future." 

"We have to get to the airport first, stop them from meeting." 

Alex reached for his morpher. "Get a cab. I'll call Jen." 

- - -

  
TBC... 


	7. Encounters in Darkness

Rated PG: some language, mild violence. 

Alex/Wes, Jen, Trip, Lucas, Katie and all other characters from Power Rangers belong to Disney/Saban. Methos and Duncan belong to Davis/Panzer Productions. I am using them without permission, however I have not and don't expect to make money from this.

Reviews are always appreciated.

Any inaccuracies in the first part are entirely the fault of my friends, none of whom have the decency to have ever been in the Geneva airport.

**The Price**

* * *

Encounters in Darkness

- - -

  
_Alex Drake's Journal, March 17, 1996_

_You forget so many things over the course of a thousand years. Details like how to pay a cab driver. Bigger things, like languages that are no longer in use. How loud an airplane sounds as it flies overhead, coming in for a landing. The way people dressed and acted; the indefinable look and feel of a place, a time. _

The main thought in my mind as we got out of the cab was that I'd forgotten what an airport looked like, and I had no idea where to search inside it for a man on the run.

- - -

"Alex, wait, we need to pay him."

Alex looked back as Duncan turned to him, standing in the cab's open door. "Oh, right," he said, and fished in his pocket for the money Time Force had provided all of them with. He held out a handful of bills for Duncan to take, and then looked up. There was a flash of silver and a deep roar as an airplane, flying low, crossed the sky.

"For all we know, Methos is on that plane. The 1996 Methos," Duncan murmured.

"We'll keep our Methos from getting to him here," Alex muttered, half to himself. "Jen and Lucas are at the hospital; Trip and Katie at the ships." The only place they didn't have covered was Methos' hotel room, since they still didn't know where it was. "You want to stick together or split up?" he asked.

"This was - is - a small airport. We can cover it in twenty minutes. Stick together."

They approached the doorway and went through, eying the travelers hurrying across the terminal entrance area. The large room was busy but not crowded, echoing with the sound of voices speaking French, German, Italian, English, other languages harder to identify. Alex looked around carefully, but there was nothing out of the ordinary, only check-in counters, people, and luggage. "If he's here, we should sense him," he said softly.

"Yes. The logical place for him to wait would be arrivals, the exit from the secure area."

"Where's that?"

"Outside customs, I guess... Come on." Duncan pointed to a sign in French, and then led the way to a stairway and down into a long, wide corridor bustling with people. He touched Alex's arm again, and nodded at a display listing flight arrivals. "Flights from Paris are pretty frequent," he said. "There's one that landed a few minutes ago. Another in an hour."

"And we don't know which one... But probably Methos doesn't remember, either. He'll have to wait for each one, just like us. Assuming he's even here, and not just waiting in his hotel room."

"No, I think he's here. He's always tried to avoid contact with most other Immortals. If he - 1996 Methos - senses an Immortal in his room, no telling what he might do. Call the cops, or just run... No, here in the airport, our Methos is sure to be able to get close enough to talk to him."

"And we've got to get there first. Stop him. Which means meeting every flight from Paris."

"It's not that bad; all the passengers from France should have to go through customs and come out this way."

"Do you think he'll be there? Or will he try to get through security?"

"I don't think he'd take the risk. Methos doesn't like risk, and he doesn't like being conspicuous. He'll wait with the other people meeting passengers. Come on."

They had just come into sight of a small group of people just outside a wide doorway marked with a sign reading _'Defense D'Entrer'_ with the same 'Do Not Enter' warning repeated in English, German, and Italian. They came closer, then stopped abruptly as he felt it. Alex glanced at Duncan, who met his eyes and gave a slight nod. The buzz... There was another Immortal here. Methos. But which one? Or both?

"Look!"

There he was. Among the people waiting, one man who stiffened and turned around, Methos' face filling with surprise and alarm before he slid into the crowd and disappeared. Duncan broke into a run, pushing past startled travelers. Alex hesitated for a moment, feeling a disturbing echo - the touch of another Immortal - he glanced at the ragged trail of people coming out of the doorway, catching a glimpse of that familiar face again. Methos, the other one, just starting to look around as he sensed it too. Alex backed away, turned, and darted after Duncan's retreating back.

"This way!" Duncan called before turning a corner. The chase continued past more people, thankfully no security guards in sight... They dashed through another doorway and came to a stop. The hall in front of them was empty and looked unused, the carpeting threadbare, probably not one of the usual passenger areas.

"Where did he go?"

"Don't know..." With a quick wish that their ability to sense each other included a directional signal, Alex pointed to a stairway leading up. "That's the only way he could have gotten out of sight so quickly. Come on."

"Right behind you."

The echo of running feet in the stairwell led them up past the next level, and then stopped. The floor above seemed deserted, but Alex's senses told him Methos must be nearby. They both took a few steps forward, tensely glancing around. This part of the airport consisted of a short hallway into what looked like a reception area, complete with an empty desk. Several rooms opened off it, a few doors ajar to reveal large tables, chairs, a podium or two.

"Looks like a conference center," Alex murmured, keeping his voice low. "The airport probably rents these rooms for business meetings."

"Lucky it's empty."

"It's a Sunday evening... He's got to be around here somewhere."

Silently, they separated to circle the room. Alex moved slowly, concentrating. He could almost imagine that he could reach out with his senses, turn that faint tingling buzz he felt into a signal he could follow. Was it a little stronger here? So hard to tell... The sensation must be controllable; he could tune out the presence of an Immortal he was around for any length of time, as he was doing now with Duncan... He stopped and closed his eyes, trying to let instinct guide him. Here...

There was sound, a chair falling. Alex opened his eyes to see movement. Methos ran from one of the conference rooms, heading for an exit, Duncan shouting as he started after him. Alex was closer - with a few long strides he cut Methos off, and whirled to face him. Duncan stopped too, and together they began to close in as their quarry backed up until he was pressed against the wall.

"We know what you're trying to do," Duncan said quietly. "There's no way you can get to him now. Give up. It's over."

"Not yet, it's not," Methos said, an almost savage snarl twisting his lips. He reached into a jacket pocket and pulled out a short black cylinder. Alex knew what it must be, and was proven right when a glimmer of silver light sparked at its end and grew into a gleaming blade.

"Don't do this," Duncan said. "I know you don't want to fight us."

"You give me no choice."

In another moment Duncan had an energy sword of his own in his hand. He held it up and across his body in a defensive posture, and advanced a step. "I don't want to hurt you," he said softly, "but I _will_ stop you."

"Are you willing to kill me for this? Are you so determined to keep Alexa from living?"

"No one's killing anyone today." Alex stepped forward, gesturing Duncan back and raising his arm. At the touch of a button, he felt the old, familiar surge of power and energy burst into him and over him, as if a glowing stream of electricity was being poured over his skin. It took only a moment... both Methos and Duncan were staring, wide-eyed, as it faded, leaving him in the red and white of his Time Force Ranger suit. With another quick gesture he summoned his chrono-saber, the familiar handle of the weapon fitting so perfectly into his hand, even after all these years.

Methos fell back a step as he started forward. "This hardly seems like a fair fight!" he protested.

"It's not meant to be fair. I have no intention of taking your head, just of disarming you without anyone getting hurt." Alex moved again, raising the saber, waiting for his opponent to make a move.

And it came, Methos slashing at him with a sideways sweep. The two blades clanged together with a bright spark that betrayed their energy-generated nature. Alex blocked the blow easily and was ready for the next, a thrust at his shoulder. With a quick twist of the arm, he deflected it. Again, a sweep at his legs, parried into the floor. He turned as Methos circled him, and saw Duncan move between them and the exit.

"Very brave, the two of you against me!" Methos cried, his voice vibrating with anger.

"We have no choice either."

"No choice? Let me do what I came to do! All I want is to save a life!"

"The price of that life is too high." Alex stepped back, lowering his saber. "I'm sorry, I really am. I know how it feels to lose someone you care for."

"Is that why you saved your _father's _life?" Methos was shouting now. He raised his sword again threateningly. "You didn't worry about changing history when you took a regenerator to 2001, did you? Not when it was someone _you_ wanted to save! All your rules about the timeline didn't matter then, did they?"

"It wasn't like that-"

"Liar! You come after me - you attack me - to stop me from doing the same thing you did!"

"It _wasn't_ the same!" Alex's shout stopped the outburst, at least for a moment. "Methos, just listen to me," he went on more calmly. "When Ransik went to 2001, he did several things to alter history. One of them was to attack my father. Ransik was the one who injured him, and almost killed him. In the original timeline, Dad was meant to live another thirty years, just as he did after I used the regenerator to save his life. All I did was put things back the way they were supposed to be, the way they would have been without interference."

Methos only glared at him, breathing heavily. "If I was so willing to change history," Alex went on, "don't you think I would have saved Eric, too? He died because of me, because he was trying to protect me. I've never stopped wishing I could have prevented it. There are others, too, many of them. But I know I can't risk altering the timeline for them; as much as I want to, I don't have the right to endanger an entire world. Neither do you. I can't do anything to change their fates, just as you can't change Alexa's."

"Please, old friend, give this up." Duncan's voice was pleading, his hand outstretched, his sword gone into a harmless cylinder again. "You know us. You know _me_. If there was any way to let you do this safely, I'd be right at your side."

"I don't believe you! You'd say anything to stop me!" But there was doubt in Methos' face now, and it quivered in his voice.

"And why do you think we would, if not because it's so important? It's all true. And I think you know it. You want to save Alexa so much, you've persuaded yourself it's possible, but you must know in your heart it isn't."

"There has to be a way! I can't give up, I can't let her die, not when there's a way to prevent it! Can't you see that?"

"If that's the way you feel," Duncan said, stepping forward, arms down by his sides, "if Alexa is all you care about, then go ahead. Take my head. I'm unarmed now; I won't stop you." His voice strengthened. "Kill me, because that's the only way I'll let you do this."

Methos stared at him, pale and with an expression full of both anger and uncertainty. Alex moved back and watched them, waiting while silence filled the room for a few seconds, the struggle inside Methos clearly reflected on his face.

"Don't be so dramatic; you know damn well I'm not going to take your head." Methos' voice was sharp, but defeated. He seemed to sag, his shoulders slumping, the sword lowering to rest against the floor. "Damn. Is there no hope for her? No way to save her? No way at all?"

"I wish there was," Alex answered sincerely.

"I've made a mess of things, haven't I?"

"Only a little around the edges," Duncan said with a half-smile.

"All right," Methos said, almost in a whisper. He closed his eyes, putting out a hand to lean against the wall, turning his face away, head bowed. Alex and Duncan glanced at each other, and waited. After a few moments, the ancient Immortal dipped a hand into his pocket again. This time, it came out with a faintly glowing sphere. Without looking at them, he held it out.

"Thanks," Alex said. He took it, looking into the gleaming surface before putting it away.

"You've convinced me." Methos was looking at them again, his face drawn but calm and resigned. "I accept that I can't change history. I'll come back with you. But... I have one favor to ask first."

- - -

"That's the room." Methos stopped, his back tensely hunched, then straightening. "I still remember it."

"Go on," Duncan said softly, dropping an arm around his friend's shoulders in support. "Take as much time as you need."

Jen hung back, respecting their privacy, Alex at her side. The hospital hallway was almost empty, the lights dimmed for night, only a nurses' station in the distance, the faint sound of footsteps as some doctor or attendant hurried to their destination, caring for another patient.

She had accepted Alex's invitation to go inside with them, she wasn't sure exactly why. Lucas had decided to return to the ships. They had waited for the 1996 version of Methos to leave, watched him from a distance as he walked slowly away and disappeared into the streets of Geneva. Then they had gone in. Methos had had no trouble gaining admittance by claiming he had changed his mind and wanted to stay longer, and had convinced the nurse-receptionist to allow the rest of them in too, aided by Duncan's considerable charm.

As for why they were doing this... only a glance at Methos' face answered that. She watched as he moved stiffly to the room door, and opened it. Inside, she caught a glimpse of the too-thin form of a woman who might once have been pretty, looking pitifully small and frail on a hospital bed. Without a glance back, Methos closed the door behind him.

"Will he be all right?" Alex asked as Duncan joined them.

"Yes. He'll survive. He always does."

"He didn't know her very long, did he?" Jen asked. "He's so old, known so many people, been with so many women too, I'm sure. How could this woman be so important to him? So special? Why does he remember her, out of all the rest?" She had expected Duncan to answer, but he only shrugged and took a few steps away from them to stand looking out a window.

"Love doesn't always make sense," Alex's voice said beside her. "Maybe their relationship was more intense because they both knew it wouldn't last. Because they both wanted every moment together to be a good one."

"Not like us, was it?" She saw his eyes flicker to her face. "I mean, there were plenty of times we got on each other's nerves. Argued. Times we didn't like each other."

"I always liked you, Jen. Even before I loved you."

"Kind of hard to believe, with the way I acted sometimes."

"You acted like a woman who had just lost her fiancé and been stranded in a strange time on an impossible mission. I admired you for it."

"I didn't feel very admirable a lot of the time. I know I pushed too hard. Sometimes I felt so angry and frustrated, and I took it out on all of you. Can't blame you and the others for getting annoyed with me."

"Sometimes we needed a push. Especially me." Alex was smiling gently.

Jen found herself smiling, too, but another thought made the expression fade. "Then, when we first met at Time Force... Did you - did you remember me? I mean, it was a thousand years later for you."

"Do you remember when we said goodbye on the beach in 2001? What you said when you gave me your badge?"

"Of course I do..."

_"Don't ever forget me."_

_"Never could."_

"And I didn't forget you, Jen. Even after the picture of you I carried turned to dust, I could still remember your face. We Immortals tend to have good memories but..." He smiled again. "It was more than that."

Could it be possible his feelings for her had lasted over all those years? That he had loved her all along? How could any emotion survive that vast expanse of time and experience? And yet, the proof that it could happen was standing on the other side of that hospital room door. But... what had she done, what qualities did she have, that a man like Alex - like Wes, she reminded herself - would find her so unforgettable?

"And did you...?" she began hesitantly.

"What?"

She couldn't ask what she wanted to know. _'Did you love me for a thousand years? Do you love me now? Did you wait for me?' _Other, more uncomfortable thoughts. _'How many women have there been for you? How many have you cared for? How many did you love?'_ A sharp and surprising prickle of jealousy accompanied that thought. Jen shook her head. "Nothing."

Alex's hand touched hers for a moment, his blue eyes - Wes's eyes - looked into hers deeply. "When we said forever, I meant it," he said very softly. He held her gaze, and then turned away.

- - -

_I shouldn't have come. Shouldn't be going through this again._ Methos stood over the bed, looking down, watching the slow rise and fall of Alexa's chest as she slept. Soon, even that sign of life would cease. This time he would not be here to see it, but it made no difference; the image rose before his eyes, as vivid as reality. The coldness of her hand in his, the glazed look in her eyes, the ragged sound of her breathing. The brightness of a tear sliding down her cheek as her lips moved one more time, only a faint whisper: _I love you..._ He could only hope she had heard him say it back.

A blur then. The funeral arrangements. The services. A small group of mourners offering condolences he hardly heard. Nothing had seemed quite real until the day a few weeks later when he was standing over her grave with Duncan MacLeod, staring at a headstone that read _'Alexa Bond'_. Her name. All that was left of her, except his memories. So, to keep those memories from ever fading, he had spoken of her.

The way Alexa had loved their time in Santorini. The way he had felt when he was with her, when he held her. The burden of knowing their time together would end so soon. The end - the strange sense of surprise he had felt when it came, when Alexa closed her eyes forever and he realized he hadn't been prepared, could never have been prepared. The way he missed her, and still wanted her near him. MacLeod had listened, as he always did.

She would close her eyes again in that inevitable moment, the moment a part of him had been trapped in for over a thousand years. He had moved on, picked up his life, even fallen in love again. And again. Alexa had been stored away in an almost forgotten corner of his mind, an image to be taken out and looked at sadly and lovingly once in a while, always with a pang of longing. Then Dory's death had brought back the pain, made it as sharp as when it first happened. Overburdened with a lifetime of losses, the accumulated grief of the deaths of so many people close to him, he had determined to erase this one, or at least to make the memory bearable.

But Alexa belonged here, in the past. It was time - not to forget her, but to remember the woman who had lived, and laughed, and loved with him, not the one who lay before him on that bed. Methos bent over her, his fingers lightly brushing her hair, stroking her cheek with a feather touch. "Goodbye, Alexa," he whispered.

In the hallway he saw them look at him, MacLeod's face full of concern and sympathy, Alex grave and solemn but his kindness showing through, Jen's eyes surprisingly warm. Methos closed the door behind him and took a step forward.

"Thank you, Duncan," he said. "Thanks, all of you. Now, if you don't mind, I would like to go home."

- - -

  
TBC... 


	8. Beginnings

Rated PG: some language, mild violence. 

Alex/Wes, Jen, Trip, Lucas, Katie and all other characters from Power Rangers belong to Disney/Saban. Methos and Duncan belong to Davis/Panzer Productions. I am using them without permission, however I have not and don't expect to make money from this.

Reviews are always appreciated. 

Another story over... as always, many thanks to all who read and even more to all who reviewed, I do value the feedback. Special thanks to my wonderful RL betas, Cecilia and Jenny (who turned out to be a Highlander fan) and to my equally wonderful and very talented online beta, MzDany (who's also a bit of an HL fan). A big additional thanks goes to Rach aka The Fink and Dagmar Buse for significant contributions and suggestions. 

**The Price**

* * *

Beginnings

- - -

  
_Alex Drake's Journal, May 22, 3001_

_It's been two weeks now since our return from 1996, and life has returned to normal, at least on the surface. Strange to be back to my regular routine of office work again, after wearing the Ranger suit, however briefly. Maybe that means it's time for a change, maybe a more active assignment, away from Headquarters. I don't want to leave Time Force, but - things are different now. Logan and I can never look at each other quite the same way again, for one thing. _

Speaking of changes, Methos has apologized for telling the others about me. It was easy to forgive him; somehow I'm not angry. Most of what I feel is relief. Jen, Lucas, Katie, and Trip won't betray my secret, but a big part of me seems to be tired of hiding. I haven't exactly made an announcement, but I've decided to go back to my natural, blond hair, and have even started finding myself acting more like Wes again. The people I really care about already know, after all. Maybe it would be a good thing for us Immortals to start letting the world know what we are, and let them deal with it. 

Duncan and I were in court last week as character witnesses at Methos' hearing, when he was brought up on charges of attempted alteration of history, plus theft of a timeship. I think we made a good case that he was acting under stress, and intended no harm. Maybe also the judges decided that prison time wouldn't be very meaningful to a man who has lived six thousand years and might live another six thousand. In any case, they released him yesterday on probation. Maybe they had another reason too, since he was also 'sentenced' to spend the next few years working with the Time Force historical department, giving them the benefit of his first-hand knowledge. 

Speaking of Duncan, he introduced me to another Immortal. Amanda. Some kind of old girlfriend, I think. I'm starting to get a whole circle of Immortal friends, and for the first time it's a good feeling to be around my own kind, a safe feeling. Duncan and Methos told me that most of the more vicious Immortals end up killing each other off. Now it's mostly the ones who haven't gone looking for heads, who have stayed out of the Game as best they could, who are survivors. Like them. And me. Maybe it's true that the best way to win is not to play. 

As for the others, my teammates... Lucas, Katie, and Trip have gone back to their jobs. So has Jen. I don't see much of them, just like before. I guess that's what I should have expected, although - I had kind of hoped for more... 

- - -

The soft, almost hesitant sound of a knock on his partially opened door prompted Alex to look up. His first thought when he saw them was one of alarm - what were they doing here? Had something happened? Or was something going to happen - judging by the startled expressions on the faces of his four former teammates. 

It was Katie who blurted it out. "What'd you do to your hair?" she demanded loudly. 

He raised a self-conscious hand to his head. "Oh... I removed the dye. Thought I'd let it go back to my natural color now that... there doesn't seem to be much point in a disguise anymore." 

"Man, that's weird." Lucas was staring. 

"Weird? Why, has it turned green or something? Sorry, Trip." 

"It's okay." Trip grinned. "Lucas means it's like seeing Wes sitting in Alex's office. Which is kinda what it is. Weird." 

"Don't answer for me. Geez." 

"Sorry," Trip said to Lucas, not sounding sorry at all, before continuing. "I kinda like it." 

"Thanks. Who knows, maybe people will think I'm going gray." 

He thought he saw Jen smile just a little at that, before she spoke for the first time. "It's going to take some getting used to." 

"Well, we can get used to it over dinner," Katie declared. "Um... that's why we came by, Alex, to find out if you're free tonight." 

"Yeah, thought we'd take you out," Lucas said. 

"I know a place that has pizza," Trip said eagerly, "almost like we had in 2001. It'll be like old times." 

Alex blinked at them, and covered his emotion with a smile. "That sounds great. Really great." 

- - -

"Hey! Hey, old man!" 

Methos turned at the shout, and grinned at the slim, dark-haired, seemingly young woman who dashed recklessly across the street, Duncan MacLeod following on her heels, and threw herself into his arms. 

"Who are you calling old?" he demanded as soon she let go. 

"You, of course. So how the hell are you? You look terrible!" 

"Hmm. Very nice to see you, too, Amanda. And I imagine Mac has told you all about how I've been." 

"Yes." Her smile became sympathetic as she tucked her arm under his. "I'm sorry, Methos. I wish things could have turned out differently for you." 

"Thanks. When did you get into town?" 

"She blew in a few days ago," Duncan answered. "After I hadn't seen her in... how long has it been?" 

Amanda shrugged. "Ten years? Twenty? Who keeps track of such things?"

Duncan raised a brow. "No call, no warning. As usual." 

"Right," Methos murmured. "Hurricane Amanda." 

"That's right," she said with an unrepentant smirk. "I'm here, and it's my job to put some fun in your dreary lives. Starting now. Drinks, maybe a movie. Or... how about a quick trip somewhere? Rome? Hong Kong?" She tugged on his arm enthusiastically. "It'll be just like old times!" 

"Sorry, but I have an appointment," Methos said. 

"Cancel it!" 

"Can't. Didn't Mac tell you I have to do community service?" 

"Yes, I did. She paid about as much attention as she usually does." 

"I'm reviewing historical records for Time Force. They figure I'm an expert." 

"Oh dear." Amanda laughed. "Sounds absolutely fascinating." 

"It's not so bad. Better than my security guard job. In fact I'm almost enjoying it." Methos took Amanda's hand, squeezed her fingers gently, and transferred her to Duncan's arm, watching them smile at each other. "You two go on. I'm sure you have more catching up to do, and you don't need me around." 

"But Methos, I haven't seen you in ages..." she pouted. 

"There's plenty of time." 

"Dinner, then?" 

"Sounds good to me." 

"How about Alex? Maybe he'd like to come too," Duncan said. 

"Figures you'd hit it off so well with him," Methos said with a smile. "You finally found another Immortal who's as much of an incurable do-gooder as you are. Anyway, I happen to know Alex is busy tonight." He glanced down at his watch. "I really must be going. And, Amanda... Thank you for being here." 

Again that warmth was in her eyes, as she nodded before grinning impudently again. "Anytime, old man." 

For a moment he stood and watched them walk away together, arm in arm, heads leaning close. Envy touched him. To have an Immortal lover - loss and grief were still possible, but there was not the crushing inevitability of age and death that came with love for a mortal. Duncan and Amanda might spend decades at a time apart, often with other relationships intervening, but maybe that had helped make their arrangement work so well for over a thousand years. When love can last for centuries, freedom and time apart might be necessities. 

More important to him now, they were both good friends. It wasn't a coincidence that Amanda had chosen to arrive now. She was here to cheer him up, to show him he was not alone. Sometime friendship lasts longer than love... He had said that to Dory, hadn't he? 

And that thought reminded him of Alex again. He had turned out to be a forgiving sort; they had repaired their friendship, and strengthened it. Hopefully, tonight, Alex was on the road to reestablishing his friendships with his mortal teammates, too. And maybe more... 

- - -

Alex raised his hand to wave as the car pulled away, carrying Lucas, Trip, and Katie into the gathering darkness of a mild spring night. He watched until the faint sound of the engine faded and all was quiet again, just the half-light of dusk and the coolness of a gentle breeze - and the sound of a footstep beside him. 

"That was nice, wasn't it?" Jen asked, just a hint of uncertainty in her voice. To his surprise, she had gotten out of the car when he had. Just like countless times when they had been together, and had gone up to his apartment, spent a little time talking, laughing, kissing, and then... "Alex?" 

"Sorry. Yeah, it was nice. I'm glad all of you seem to have gotten over... you know." 

"Were you worried? Did you really think we'd treat you differently?" 

"Yes," he said bluntly. "A lot of people have." 

"I suppose." She was silent, looking down at the ground. 

"Well, I guess I should-" 

"Is it okay if I come up?" 

"Sure," he said after a moment of hesitation. 

She looked around as she walked into his apartment, as if trying to identify any differences since the last time she had been there. Alex watched as she circled the living room, examined the counter, glanced into the darkened bedroom, came back to him and then moved to stand at the window. Finally it occurred to him that she was nervous. 

And the silence was making him uneasy too. "Did you want to talk to me about something?" he asked. 

"Yeah." 

"Well - what is it?" 

"It's..." She was on the move again, prowling the room until she came to a stop facing him, staring intently. "It's strange, seeing your hair like that." 

"Did you come up here just to tell me that?" 

"It's just..." She sighed. "It makes you seem more like Wes." 

"I _am_ Wes." 

"I know that. But - oh, you know what I mean." She gave him another glance, frowning but with a sparkle starting to light her eyes. "It's like you're not really Alex anymore. But you're not exactly Wes either. Still, I can see the Wes in you." 

"Sorry to be so confusing." 

"There's a lot of things I'm confused about." Jen quirked a brow. "Now I don't know whether to call you Wes or Alex. Or something else." 

"Whatever you want. I've used so many names; it doesn't much matter to me." 

"Hmm. Wes... Alex... Maybe I should call you Welex." 

"_What?_" His startled glance flew to her face, finding her suppressing a smile as she backed off and circled around him. 

"Or - or maybe Alwes...?" 

"Jen... are you feeling all right?" he asked, turning in an attempt to keep her in sight. 

"Or Wesal..." 

He laughed. "Absolutely not. That's worse than the first one." 

"Hey, you said I could call you anything!" She was back in front of him, smiling the way she used to smile at him, the way he had always loved so much. 

"As your commanding officer, I forbid it," he murmured, a smile lifting his own lips. 

"What are you going to do about it?" Jen was leaning forward. 

"I..." His hands rose to her shoulders, almost of their own accord. Her face was so close - her lips raised to his, her eyes bright, her hands rising to grasp his arms... He wanted to kiss her, more than anything, and she wanted him to, he could see that clearly. But... who was it she wanted? He hesitated and then straightened slightly away from her, just enough to bring disappointment into those clear brown eyes. 

"What's wrong?" she asked. Jen was nothing if not straightforward. 

"Jen... What are we doing here? I think we need to talk before jumping into anything." 

He had been afraid she'd be angry, or hurt. To his relief, she sighed and nodded. "I guess you're right." 

"I'm just not sure what you want from me." 

"I'm not sure either. But I think it's time for us to try to find out. If you want to, of course." 

"Yes, I want to. I still..." He paused, and took a step backwards. "But - what's changed, Jen? You've found out the truth about me. But I'm still the same person you've known for years. The same person you broke up with. If it's just that now you know I'm Wes... That doesn't make anything different. Not for me." 

"It makes a difference to me." Her voice was very soft, her eyes downcast. 

"Why? I'm Alex now. Wes is gone. Has been for centuries. Don't look for him in me." 

"But you _are_ him. You just said so yourself. I know Wes is inside you, that everything I loved about him is in you. I don't have to look, he's there." Jen moved closer again, her gaze intent on his face. "It's like - you've got these two sides. You're not complete without both of them. What I want is you - not just one or the other, but all of you." She stared into his eyes, and then glanced down. "I guess I'm not explaining it very well." 

"You're doing fine." He waited for her to look up again. "But have you really thought about this? Now that you know - you must know we'd have a lot of problems." 

"Because you're an Immortal." 

"I'd stay young, while you get older. Sooner or later, you'd look at me and be convinced I'd rather be with someone as young as I still look. It won't be true, but that's what you'll think." He waited, but she said nothing. "I can't father children. Eventually I might want to move on, to go somewhere where no one knows about me. You might want that too; if people are hostile to me they probably would be to you too. Plus - there's always the chance I'll be killed in the Game." 

"There are never any guaranties." Jen turned partially away, twisting her finger together. "Look, I'm not asking for promises, or permanence. I'm not sure I want that myself. All I'm saying is that maybe we should give it another chance." 

"I just want to be fair to you this time. I don't want you to get hurt." 

"Hurt. And what about you?" She had turned back, and was watching him again with that look that seemed so uncomfortably penetrating, as if she could see through him to the uncertainties underneath. "What are _you_ afraid of? Wes... Alex... If you really cared for me for a thousand years... Are you afraid to be with me again because sooner or later I'll be gone, this time forever?" 

The question struck so close to his heart it left him searching for words. "I - I don't know..." he stammered, but it was true, more true and more frightening than he had realized until that moment, and he could see that she saw it in his face. 

"Maybe you're right," she whispered. "Maybe it's not a good idea. It must be so terrible to keep losing people, like Methos did... I'm just being selfish." 

"Selfish?" 

"I was only thinking about what I want, not about how you feel. About whether you'd be all right after... I'd better go." After another glance, she started for the door. 

"Jen, wait." He caught her in the entranceway, his hands on her shoulders again, gently turning her around, his fingers under her chin bringing her face up to his. Yes, he was afraid, he could admit it now. But there were more important things than fear, and one of them was the woman he was looking at. He could admit that too. 

"Jen, life is about change. Beginnings, and endings. Death. And going on. Yes, I've loved you for a thousand years. Yes, it will be terrible for me when you're gone, whether or not we ever get back together. But I'll survive, and I'll know I didn't miss my chance at happiness out of fear. Being with you would be worth the price. Any price..." 

There was no answer, at least not in words, as she smiled before closing her eyes as he kissed her. 

- End -

  



End file.
